Neverland Treasure
by MissFaery
Summary: The terms are simple: Give Peter what he wants, and him and the Lost Boys give the Never isles another year of peace. But when Peter catches a glimpse of Princess Holly, he decides he wants her all for himself. Her father denies him, and now Peter and the Lost Boys are wreaking havoc. Will Holly go with Pan? Or will she trust a certain pirate captain to help beat Pan for good?
1. Chapter 1

The day I met Peter Pan was the day that I realized I was never really hidden.

On the first day of Spring, when the flowers on the trees and shrubs all bloom together, he comes to the castle with a few of his Lost Boys and names his price. Depending on how many Lost Boys have died in the past year, he'll usually take a few more children back with him to his camp on the large island north of ours. Sometimes, it's something as simple as clothing.

It all depends on how Peter is feeling.

And as long as we give him what he wants, Peter and the Lost Boys leave the villages and the people who reside there alone. That's how it's always been, and that's how it will stay. My father, King Aldwyn, has only ever denied Peter and the Lost Boys once.

And in the end, Peter still got what he wanted.

Four years have passed since that day, but the wound it left still bleeds, and I'm not sure my father will ever forgive himself for what happened.

I'm not sure I'll ever be able to forgive him either.

Every year, on the day that Peter Pan is to come to the castle, I am to stay out of sight. After breakfast, I am sent to my room and I am to stay there until my father fetches me himself.

"If you're out of Pan's sight, you're out of Pan's mind," my father tells me every year, but every time he tells me this, it's like he's trying to convince himself instead of trying to convince me.

Part of me, a large part of me, wants to believe that what he's saying is true, but there's this nagging whisper in the back of my mind whenever he says it that tells me he's wrong. Peter Pan _must_ know I'm hidden away, and I know that if _I_ was Peter Pan, that would make me curious.

And a curious Peter Pan is dangerous.

"Off with you now, Holly," my father said as I folded my napkin and set it on my plate. I hardly touched the assortment of fruit or the bread and cheese. I'm never hungry on the day Peter Pan visits. My father must not be either because he's hardly touched his own plate. "Pan and the Lost Boys should be arriving any minute, and I want you-"

"Out of Pan's sight, out of Pan's mind," I finished for him, and he gave me a small smile.

"That's a girl," he said, cupping my cheeks in his hand. His palm is clammy and cold, but I don't pull away. His thumb traces the soft curve of my cheekbone before he drops his hand and dismisses me. Servants began to clear away the platters still piled with food, their faces grim. I know a few of them have boys, and I'm sure they fear that Peter Pan will want to take them away from Mystasia forever. My heart aches for them, but there isn't anything I can do.

There isn't anything any of us can do. What Pan wants, Pan gets.

I stand and gather the blue material of my gown in my hands before taking off at a fast-paced walk towards the dining hall doors. The deep brown strands of my hair, without any hint of curl, tickle the back of shoulders.

The door shuts behind me, the echo sounding much larger in the empty hall. The windows that adorn the right side of the hall rattle slightly, but I don't linger. I'm half way down the hall when I hear voices.

Loud, rowdy voices, and cackling laughter.

Peter and the Lost Boys. They've arrived early, and the only way out of the hall is to pass by them.

I freeze when a guard rounds the corner at the end of the hall, his face grim and his march more than a bit stiff. His step falters slightly when he sees me, and his eyes grow wide.

He glances over his shoulder slightly before bolting over to me and grabbing my elbow so tight it almost hurts. He wastes no time dragging me over to the other side of the hall and pushing me behind one the large pillars that reaches from floor to ceiling.

"Stay hidden," he whispers urgently before turning back and making the last few strides towards the large dining hall doors. I nod, unable to swallow the hard knot that has formed in my throat.

The voices grow louder, and soon I can see them. I don't dare peek out from behind the pillar in fear of being seen, but I can see their reflections in the windows as they pass.

Boys of all shapes, sizes, and ages round the corner, their clothes and hair in a wide spectrum of disarray. They all wear the traveling cloaks that Peter demanded be made for them last year, and while most had their hoods are down, some of the older boys wore their hoods up. Most of the younger boys are barefoot, their feet black with filth, but the older boys seem to be wearing makeshift shoes that looked a lot like moccasins.

Three boys that seem to be about my age lead the group, and I can only guess that one of them _must_ be Peter Pan.

Part of me hopes that one of the other two hooded boys is John, but from what Father tells me, Peter never brings him, and my father isn't one to beg.

"Even if Pan _did_ bring John back with him, I wouldn't allow you to see him," my father told me the first year after Peter had taken John. "It's too risky."

I had been so angry, but then Peter never brought him, and it occurred to me that he probably never would.

The guard who opened the door lead the party inside, and I went by unnoticed. When the door closed and I checked the reflections in the mirror several times to make sure I was alone, I let myself breathe normally. Then, I stepped back into the hall.

And ran smack into someone.

"Well, well, well," the hooded figure drawled, and I felt my stomach drop. "Who do we have here?"

"I-I'm so sorry," I stumbled as I tried to rein in my fraying nerves. I could have sworn Peter and his entourage had entered the dining hall. Surly, I would have seen this hooded boy in the windows. Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at the large windows. Sure enough, the hooded figure was there and very hard to miss.

"Please, don't apologize," the figure said as he pulled back his hood. "The fault was mine. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

I open my mouth to speak, but as the hood fell down over the boy's shoulders, the words didn't come.

Emerald green eyes stared down at me through fiery red curls that poked out in different directions on his head. His skin had been kissed by the sun, bringing out the splatter of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He was only slightly taller than me, and lean, but I felt so small next to him. His lips curled into a smirk as he tilted his head to the side and said, "It's rude to stare."

I ducked my head, my cheeks flushing hot, which made him chuckle.

"You wouldn't happen to be King Aldwyn's daughter, would you?" he asked, his voice like honey. I looked up at him to find him smiling down at me. My mind screamed for me to lie, to tell him that he mistook me for someone else, but I had a feeling he already knew the answer. It wasn't like my gown alone gave anything away.

I gave a small nod, and his eyes sparkled.

"It's an honor, Your Majesty," he said with a deep bow.

Normally, I would curtsy and say something along the lines of, "The pleasure is all mine.", but I don't. I stand, my shoulders and back beginning to ache from standing so rigid, my hands wringing together as he straightens.

"I've been waiting a very long time to catch a glimpse of you," he said, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I try to hold still, but every nerve in my body tells me not to let this boy touch me. I feel his fingertips brush my ear, then my neck, and finally my collar bone. My breath hitches, and as I watch him, his eyes change. They darken to the shade of moss in the deep wood after a heavy storm. His hair seems to darken to, fading into an auburn, and I swear that his shadow ripples.

Something feels very wrong, and I will my feet to move, but they don't. They stay put.

 _I shouldn't be out here,_ I tell myself, _I shouldn't be talking to this boy._

"Don't you know who I am, Princess?" he asks, an amused smile on his face. His moss colored eyes twinkle dangerously. I shake my head, and the corners of his lips stretch wide.

Then, he took a step back and spread his arms out wide. "Well, Princess," he announced, the grin never leaving his face, "I'm Peter Pan."


	2. Chapter 2

Peter Pan.

The most dangerous boy in all of the Never Isles, the boy who had my brother, standing right in front of me.

He stood perfectly still, watching me as I tried to make sense of how I had been so unlucky as to meet him face to face after so many hears of being careful. As my mind reeled, he sighed, snapping my attention back to him.

"Well, Princess, I must say that it's been a pleasure meeting you." He smiled and I felt my hands tremble. "I can see why they've kept a treasure like you hidden all these years." As his eyes raked over my body, I resisted the urge to cover myself. "I can see why your daddy doesn't let you sit in on these meetings like he did your brother. He definitely seemed to have learned his lesson."

"What do you mean?" I ask the question before I can think better of it, but I'm so desperate to hear about John that I don't care.

Peter shook his head. "I would love to stay and chat, Princess, but I must be off." He took a step towards me and took one of my hands in his. "It's rude to keep the king waiting." As he brought my hand to his lips, I couldn't help but notice how dirty his fingernails were. His nailbeds, as well as the area under his fingernails, were coated in a flaky, red-brown substance.

His hot breath brushed the back of my hand as he lips found my knuckles. To my surprise, his lips were soft as silk and the kiss was feather light.

We locked eyes then, and I watched as the darkness receded from his hair and eyes, like smoke being washed away with rain, and soon, his emerald eyes and fiery red hair were back, flashing bright.

"Goodbye, Princess Holly," he said, and I felt a flutter in my stomach. He lowered his hand, his fingers still wrapped around mine, and just as I thought he was going to let go, he tightened his grip and yanked me forward.

I couldn't swallow the yelp of surprise as I stumbled forward. I put up my free hand to stop myself from falling, and grabbed onto the front of Peter's shirt. The cotton was soft and worn, but I instantly let go.

Our proximity was beyond inappropriate. I had never stood so close to a boy before, and I could feel my ears burning as the blush crept down into my cheeks and neck. My heart slammed against my ribcage as he leaned down, his curls tickling the side of my face as he whispered in my ear, "I hope to see you again very, _very_ soon."

And as quickly as the heat had come, it was gone and replaced with cold fear.

I didn't want to see Peter Pan again. Not ever.

But who was I to refuse Peter Pan?

He let go of my hand and brushed past me, leaving me to stand in the middle of the hall alone. Just as he was reaching for the door did I whirl on him.

"Is John still alive?" The question sounded desperate, my voice cracking on the last word, and I scorned myself for being so weak in front of him.

For a moment, Pan didn't move. His hand rested on the handle of the door, but he didn't turn it. Then, he glanced back over his shoulder at me and smiled.

"Did you not see him on our way in?"

His words slammed into me like a wave and, for a moment, I couldn't move. My mind spun as I thought back to the entourage and the three older boys with their hoods up.

John had been one of them. John was here, in the castle, in the dining hall.

Peter chuckled and shook his head as he opened the doors just wide enough for him to slip through, and before he disappeared, he winked at me.

Without a moment to lose, or a moment to think better of my next move, I took off down the hall as fast as my feet would carry me. A few servants stopped and stared at me, while others shouted after me.

"Princess Holly? Are you alright?"

"Your Majesty?"

"Princess?"

But I wasn't listening, and I certainly wasn't going to stop and chat. The longer it took me to get where I needed to go, the less chance I had of seeing John.

When I reached the stairs, I took them two at a time. I was breathless by the time I reached the top, my chest burning as I tried to take in air, my hair beginning to stick to my neck and at my temples, but I kept running. The sound of my footsteps echoed off the walls, endless paintings and tapestries blurring by as I ran.

Only when I could hear muffled voices did I start to slow my steps.

At the end of this particular hall, there were several guard stations that overlooked the dining hall below. The voices of Peter Pan and my father drifted up over the small balconies, and from a distance, they sounded civil enough.

 _He must not see John yet._

But how could he not?

Usually, the guard stations would be full of guards, each one armed with a crossbow, but today, they all guarded my father on the ground, just in case Pan or any of the Lost Boys tried to attack.

They hadn't attacked yet, but my father wasn't one to take chances with Peter Pan.

When the balcony was only a few feet away, I slowed my steps way down and tiptoed into the little pod, careful not to make any noise that may draw the attention of Peter Pan or my father upwards. Once inside, I pressed against the cold stone to try and keep out of sight.

Then, I listened.

"The cloaks held up well this winter," came Peter's voice. "They helped keep the frostbite away, especially during that nasty blizzard we had."

"I'm glad to hear it," came my father's voice, and I wondered if Peter Pan could tell how guarded he sounded.

"Are you?" Peter asked, his tone cold. I tried to slow my hammering heart. His tone had changed so quick. How could anyone keep him happy?

"Of course I am," my father replied, sounding unperturbed by Peter's sudden change of tone. There was a stretch of heavy silence, and I forced myself to take deep, even breaths as not to alert anyone of my presence with my breathing. Then my father asked, "What can I do for you, Peter?"

"Well, Your Majesty, another year has come and gone, and me and my boys haven't bothered a single person in your villages. And we've left their crops alone." I could hear the smile in his voice, and a few of the Lost Boys mumbled in agreement. I stole a glance around the stone to see if I could see John, but the boys still had their heads bowed and their cloaks drawn up. I felt my chest tighten at the thought of John being so close and yet so far away.

"Aye," my father said, his tone wary as he waited for Peter to finish.

"We did that in exchange for these cloaks, but now that the year is over… Well, you know what that means."

The Lost Boys snickered.

"What's your price for another year of peace, Peter?" Irritation laced my father's voice, his patience with Peter and the Lost Boys beginning to slip. Since losing John, he had a harder time keeping his emotions in check. "As if you'll ever truly let us have peace," my father added, his voice cold.

"King Aldwyn, I'm hurt," Peter placed a hand on his chest where his heart was and grimaced. "And to think, I thought we were friends." When my father didn't answer, Peter chuckled darkly. "You aren't going to like it, Your Highness," he said, sounding pleased with himself.

"Out with it boy," my father snapped, and I tensed. "I don't have time to play your silly games or figure out your riddles. What is it that you-"

"Holly."

I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth as my heart threw itself against my ribcage. I felt sick, and the world started to tilt dangerously to one side.

"Excuse me?" my father sputtered, his voice hoarse.

As I stole another glance down, I saw my father still sitting in his seat at the end of the table. He's leaning forward, his fists clenched on his thighs beneath the table.

The room is filled with guards. Most of them stand to either side of my father, but there are others stationed around the hall and at the dining hall doors.

Peter sits at the other end of the long table, reclining back in his seat with his feet kicked up onto the table's edge. He holds a red apple from one of the fruit bowls, turning it in his hand, and studying it. The Lost Boys stand behind his chair, their faces rugged and dirty. The older ones, with hoods drawn up, stand directly behind Peter while the younger ones stand near the back.

He takes a bite out of the apple's flesh with a sloppy _crunch_ and wipes a trail of juice at the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I want Holly," he said around his bite of apple. "That's my price for another year of peace."

My father's face flushed red. "That's out of the question! My daughter is not a bargaining chip!"

Peter takes his feet off the table and leans forward, a wicked smile on his lips. "I'm not asking to bargain with you, King Aldwyn. I'm asking for your daughter." My father shook his head, sputtering as he tries to find the proper response, but Peter doesn't take any notice. He leans forward and sets the apple, bite and all, back into the bowl before learning back in his chair, his back straight as he stares down my father.

"Your Majesty, this can happen on of two ways." His voice is so calm, so sure, yet it sets off every nerve in my body. I'm terrified. When my father doesn't answer, Peter folds his hand and leans forward. "You can either give Holly to me-"

"Absolutely not!" my father bellowed as he stood, his chair's legs scraping against the floor.

"-Or I can take her from you."

His tone never wavered and it is as though he didn't notice my father's outburst.

My father's fists trembled at his sides as he stared down Peter.

"Get. Out." he clipped, his voice dangerously low.

Peter sighed and shook his head as he stood. He glanced back over his shoulder at the Lost Boys before turning back to my father. "We'll be back in a fortnight. You can either hand over Holly then, or I'll take her. It's your choice, but you only have a fortnight. And I can't promise you that we'll be on our best behavior until then.

The group of Lost Boys snickered and Peter smiled.

"I said get out!" my father shouted. Peter chuckled.

"Oh, Aldwyn, you really should have kept her hidden better. Although, I must say that it's been a lot more fun than when you just handed over your boy to me. Right, Johnny Boy?"

Everyone froze as Peter grabbed one of the hooded boys by the shoulder and pulled him over, throwing his hood back.

And there's John, not looking a day older than the day Peter took him away, but he's broken and bruised pretty bad. His right eye is swollen shut and is black and blue. His bottom lip is split and swollen, and his hair is plastered to his face.

Tears sprung to my eyes, blurring the image under me as I tried to blink them back, but the hot tears spilled over onto my cheeks and it takes every bit of energy not to sob.

"John?" my father asked in disbelief, his voice barely reaching me up in the balconies. John said nothing, just stared at the floor, and Peter smirked.

"Johnny Boy here has been quite the fighter," he said as he wrapped an arm around my brother's shoulders. "He's tried escaping a few times, but he's always failed. Right, John?"

John nodded and Peter's smile grew.

"But he won't try to escape anymore because if he does, I might just hurt his precious sister."

My gut twisted violently, and John flinched. My father stiffened, but said nothing.

"Enjoy your final fortnight with your daughter, Aldwyn," Peter said as he pulled John's hood back over his head and pushed him back towards the group of snickering Lost Boys. They began to file out of the dining hall, each of them pulling up their hoods as they slipped out the door, "Because I don't like to share my treasures."

Then, he pulled his hood over his head and slipped out of sight, not sparing my father another glance.

It's probably a good thing too, because if Peter saw my father, he would know that he had succeeded in breaking his spirit just as he had four years ago.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite Peter's instance that my father enjoy his last fortnight with me, I hardly saw him. Most days, he locks himself away in his council chamber with his advisors tries to figure out a way to keep me out of Peter's clutches.

But as the sun began to set in the west down over the water, I couldn't help but feel like I only had a limited number of ocean sunsets left to enjoy before Peter returned and took me back to his camp in the deep jungle. There were stories that the servants whispered that said that the jungle was so thick that the sun never shines. It's constantly dark and full of nightmarish creatures that Peter and the Lost Boys hunt for sport, sometimes getting themselves killed in the process.

I've tried ignoring the stories and the whispers, but they always find their way to the front of my mind whenever I sit still or try to focus on something pleasant.

Along with the whispers and rumors though, there are worse things that are _very_ real and are _actually_ happening.

Over the past week, endless mills, farms, and homes have been set ablaze and left to burn. Multiple market stands have been robbed, and livestock are being slaughtered. All signs point to Peter and the Lost Boys, but none of them are ever caught.

I'm was sitting in the dining hall with my father on the morning of the seventh day, pushing wild bird around my plate, when a guard entered the room and announced he had grim news.

"What is it, Harlan?" my father asked as he ran thick fingers through his greying hair.

"My Lord, I have news from Eastloche."

"Please tell me they found those boys," my father said as he leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with hope even though he tried to keep his face neutral.

Harlan looked down at his feet and sighed and I saw my father's shoulders fall. When Harlan looked up, he was frowning.

"They did find the boys, Your Majesty, but…"

"But?" my father prodded. When Harlan shot a glance at me, my father turned to me and asked, "Holly, could you leave Harlan and I for a moment, please?"

Anger flared up inside me quicker than a grease fire. I sat up straighter, my shoulders back and my head held high as I said, "I want to hear the news too. I think I'm old enough." I didn't dare bring up that the reason all of these terrible things were happening was because of my father's instance that there was a way to keep me and the villages safe from Peter's wrath.

My father gave me a hard gaze, his blue eyes like the ocean, but my resolve was stronger. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes as he motioned for Harlan to continue.

Harlan shuffled uncomfortably and cleared his throat a few times before he stated, "All five of the boys were found floating in the loch. They were all swollen with water, which means they had been there for a few days."

I felt my heart sink and I had to swallow the acid that rose into my mouth as I pictured five boys, their lungs filled with salt water, floating face down.

My father swore, slamming his fist down onto the table, causing Harlan and I to startle. "Any other news?" he growled.

"Actually, Your Majesty, yes. There was a… message."

"A message?" my father asked, arching an eyebrow. Harlan nodded. "Well, let's hear it then."

Another questioning glance was shot my way, but he must have thought better than to argue because he took a deep breath and said, "Each of the boys had a letter carved into their bellies." I felt sick again. "When the letters are rearranged…" Harlan was obviously struggling. He had gone pale and beads of sweat had formed at his hairline. He kept rubbing a hand over his mouth and shuffling from one foot to another.

"What's the message, Harlan?" my father asked, his voice soft yet still authoritative.

"Holly." Harlan said in a rush. "The carvings on the bodies spelled 'Holly'."


	4. Chapter 4

I felt something cool on my forehead as my eyes fluttered open. For a moment, everything was blurry and every sound was muffled as if someone had stuffed cotton into my ears, but soon, everything shifted into focus and I found myself staring up into the canopy that hung over my bed.

"You're awake!" came a relived voice to my left. I jumped, startled. I hadn't realized I had company. When I turned my head, there was a servant woman sitting in a stuffed chair in the left corner of my room, a set of knitting needles in her hands. Her fingers moved frantically, pushing and pulling the yarn as she twisted it around her needles. A decently sized blanket rested on her lap, and I wondered how long she had been working on it.

"W-what… What happened?" I asked, my throat dry and scratchy. I pushed myself up slightly onto my pillows, a light throb pulsating above my right eye.

"You fainted, my dear," the woman said, pausing her needle work to look at me, her dark eyes full of concern. Her hair, the same chocolatey brown as her eyes with streaks of silver at each temple, was pulled back into a tight knot. She had laugh lines around her mouth and in between her eyebrows, but as she watched me, frown lines appeared on her forehead. "Don't you remember?"

I shook my head, but even as I did so, the event started to come back to me: Harlan announcing they had found the missing boys in Eastloch, my name carved into their waterlogged bodies.

I felt my throat constrict.

After Harlan had told my father and I about the message carved in their bodies, I had pushed back from the table and attempted to walk out of the dining hall, but instead, I had become queasy and dizzy and had fainted.

I must not have been out long though because the sun was still in the process of rising in the sky on the east side of the castle.

"You hit your head pretty good when you fell, but I think you'll be alright," the servant woman said with a warm smile. "You don't even have a goose egg." I gave the woman a small smile. "I'm Leoma, but you may call me Leo if it's easier to remember."

"It's a pleasure, Leoma," I said, pulling the cloth from my forehead, and she smiled. Then I said, "I don't mean to be rude, but I don't believe I've ever seen you before."

Leoma chuckled, the laugh lines replacing the frown lines and concern in her eyes. "You wouldn't," she said with a shake of her head. "I worked in the kitchens up until yesterday."

"What happened?" I asked, curious.

Leoma held up her knitting needles. "My old fingers aren't worth much anymore. I can hardly hold a spoon to stir a pot. All I can do anymore is knit." I hadn't noticed the large knots at her knuckles before or the way her fingers seemed to curl in like claws.

"I'm so sorry," I said, but the apology didn't seem adequate.

Leoma simply waved away my apology. "Don't apologize, Your Majesty. It was time for a change in scenery. Besides, you needed a new chamber maid. I believe Larken was ready to have her baby." I nodded, and she beamed. Larken had been my previous chamber maid, but as Leoma had said, she was preparing to deliver her first baby, and Father had given her a leave of absence in order to take care of the child.

Suddenly, there was shouting and the sound of rushing footsteps outside my bedroom door.

"What in the world?" Leoma mused as she set aside her knitting needles and stood, but I had already thrown back the sheets of my bed, the throbbing in my head my body's only protest, and made my way to the door.

As I swung the door open, a group of guards was hustling by, talking hurriedly amongst themselves, their hands resting on the hilts of the their swords as they passed by without even a glance my way. They were gone before I could muster a sentence.

Then, a few stragglers came hurrying down the hall, and I reached out a grabbed the sleeve of the one who passed too close to my door.

He was younger than most of the guards, probably only a year or two older than myself with long, unruly chestnut hair that he had pulled back and away from his face. His eyes were the color of maple sap, and when he finally looked up to see who had pulled on his sleeve, I could see that he was slightly frightened. Not of me, but of something.

"Princess?" he said, sounding a bit breathless as his fellow guardsman passed him by without looking back. His eyes flickered down the hall and he shifted, and I could tell he was itching to get away and join his friends.

"What's going on?" I asked, wrapping my fingers righter into his sleeve so he couldn't flee without telling me. The hall was empty now except for us, and I had a feeling this would be the last guard to pass through this hall to ask.

The guard swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. His tongue flicked out to lick his lips as his eyes dropped to the floor. He didn't speak for a moment, and I wondered if I would have to order him to tell me.

"A ship's dropped anchor in the harbor," he said, his deep voice resonating. When he looked up at me, his eyes twinkled with a mixture of nerves and excitement.

"So?" I asked, not quite understanding what was so worrisome. "Ships drop anchor in the harbor all the time." Even as I said it, the guard was shaking his head.

"Not this ship, Princess," he said with a hint of a smile. "No, no, no. You see, this ship hasn't been seen in many years." I must have looked as confused as I felt because the guard grabbed my hand and led me back into my room, past a confused Leoma, and to the large window that adorned the west wall of my room; the window that overlooked the harbor.

The guard dropped my hand and pointed to the only ship in the harbor, and I felt my breath catch as my heart began to gallop in my chest.

Of course, I had heard stories of this ship and the crew that lived upon it, and everyone knew a story or two about its captain, but I had never seen the ship in person. I'm not sure very many did.

"She's a beauty, isn't she?" the guard asked, but I didn't answer. I studied the dark mahogany, its red tints catching the sunlight as the light breeze caused the black masts to ripple like the ocean below. At the front of the ship, there was a mermaid carved into the wood, her face grim with her arms pinned to either side of the ship's sides. The green paint that I'm sure had once shone bright under the rays of the sun was faded and chipped, but the bright red of her hair seemed fresh.

And just above the crow's nest waved a flag that made my gut flip. A black flag with a bleached white skull and a set of swords crossing beneath it.

A pirate's flag.

"Carlisle," came a voice that caused Leoma and I to startle, "let's go."

I knew that voice.

"Harlan," I said and he gave a small bow. "What in the world is going on?"

Harlan gave a half-hearted smile. "I wish I knew, Princess."

"Harlan, look!" Carlisle was pointing at something out the window. "There's a rowboat! Someone is coming ashore!" Harlan was across the room and peering over the younger guard's shoulder, his face like stone. His eyes grew wide before and I heard him say something like a prayer before he grabbed Carlisle by the shoulder and pulled him along.

"Harlan!" I shouted after him, and he stopped, pushing Carlisle ahead with the order to keep moving. "What's happening?"

"The captain of the Jolly Roger is coming ashore, alone, and that doesn't sit well with me."

"Why?" I asked. He was just one man. What harm could he do to a swarm of soldiers? I voiced my observation, but Harlan only shook his head.

"He's a wanted man who happens to be very, very dangerous, and if he's coming ashore alone, it isn't for a sweet chit chat." And with that, he turned on his heel and left.

"Oh my…" Leoma mused, bringing a hand to her mouth, and when I turned my attention back out the window, it was just in time to see the man who had come ashore be swarmed by guards. He held up both his hands as if in surrender, and that's when I noticed one of his left hand was missing, and the sun caught the curved angle of a hook.

I felt my stomach flip again. First, the Jolly Roger anchors in our harbor after years of being incognito, and now, it's famous captain, who had quite the bounty on his head, was giving himself up.

Why?

I immediately lost sight of him beneath the pile of men as they knocked him to the ground and bound his wrists behind his back, and while Leoma was still distracted, I took off. I was out the door and down the hall before I heard her shout my name.

But I didn't listen. I wanted to know what was happening, because _something_ was going on, and I intended to find out what.

The captain must have dragged his feet, because I beat the entourage to the throne room. I slipped in through the door that sat behind the thrones themselves, breathless, ribs aching, and sank into my seat to my father's right before he noticed me.

"Holly," he warned, his tone dangerous, "Your room. Now."

I didn't have time to protest though, and he didn't have time to order a guard to take me back to my room because the doors to the throne room swung open.

I sat up straighter as the swarm of guards led the captain into the throne room, his wrists bound behind his back. I glanced at my father and gaged his reaction, but something that my father had learned during all his years of being king, was to keep his face unreadable. I tried to copy his unreadable expression, but as the captain came closer, I felt a blush creep into my face.

He was young. Much younger than any of the stories I had heard made him seem. And he was handsome.

Azure eyes peered up at me through jet black hair. Short, dark stubble followed his sharp jaw and curled up around his lips in a goatee and peppered his long neck. He wore a dark leather coat over dark clothes of charcoal and bottle green with black leather boots that rose just below his knee. Silver buckles glinted in the sunlight, but I lost sight of them as he was forced to his knees at the base of the steps.

I heard him take a sharp breath as his knees took the brunt of his fall, and he growled some obscenity that I couldn't quite hear.

"Watch your mouth," a guard growled before slamming the back of his hand across the captain's cheek. The sharp _slap_ that filled the room made me wince, my fingers curling around the arms of my seat as I watched the captain look up at the guard, his lip now bloody, and spit at the guard's feet. "Why, you good-for-nothing-"

"That's enough!" my father ordered, his voice stern and his face still unreadable. The guard retreated back to stand with the rest of the guards, and the captain smirked, his teeth bloody.

"Thanks, mate."

"Don't thank me yet, Hook," my father said, but Hook's smirk didn't falter. "I must say, I'm surprised you're still alive."

"You underestimate my abilities then," Hook spit again before making a face that looked like he tasted something foul. "Can I get a drink?"

"No," my father stated.

"Copper isn't really my favorite flavor." Hook shot a glare at the guard who had slapped him, but the guard only scowled. "You really should treat your allies better, Adlwyn," he tsked, leaning back on his heels. "And especially in front the lady." His eyes met mine and he gave me a lopsided grin. The blush in my cheeks deepened, igniting my ears, and I was glad my hair hid them.

I attempted to sit up straighter, but I couldn't help but shift uncomfortably. It didn't go unnoticed by Hook either. He tilted his head and asked, "Is this the lovely Holly that Pan wants so bad?"

"How do you know about that?" my father demanded, his voice wavering slightly on the edge of panic. Hook's eyes hardly flitted to my father before turning back to me, his smile finally disappearing. A hard knot formed in the back of my throat at the intensity in which he looked at me, as if he could read my mind.

Then, something flashed across his face. Worry? Pity? I wasn't sure. Finally, just as I was sure I couldn't hold his gaze for another moment, Hook met my father's gaze.

"It's why I'm here, Aldwyn," he said, his voice steady and holding a certain note of determination. "I'm here to help."


	5. Chapter 5

"Do you take me for a fool, Hook?" my father asked, his voice too calm. His face had begun to turn a shade of crimson that only painted his face when he was close to losing his temper, and his fists were curled tightly into fists to keep them from shaking, just as they had been on the day Peter had demanded my father hand me over to him.

"Not at all, Aldwy-"

"You are to address me as 'Your Majesty' in this kingdom!" my father snapped, and Hook's mouth snapped shut.

"Of course not… Your Majesty," Hook said, his tone cautious. My father huffed, but seemed satisfied by Hook's shift in attitude. "I'm only saying that you and I want the same thing."

My father scoffed. "And what could I possibly have in common with a _pirate?_ " The way he said the word made it seem more like a swear, but by the way Hook straightened his shoulders, I could tell he took it as a form of title instead of an insult.

"We both have a score to settle with Pan," Hook stated, his tone even. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that." Hook flashed a smile that made my heart sputter in my chest.

My father was quiet, and I could tell that he was _actually_ thinking about what Hook said. He leaned back in his seat, looking exhausted, the wrinkles on his forehead seeming deeper than they had in the past week. He traced his lips with his index finger, his eyes never leaving Hook.

"What are you suggesting be done?" My question hung heavy in the air, all eyes, especially Hook's, now on me.

"Holly," my father hissed, but Hook interrupted.

"She speaks! Well, love, I must say that your voice is as pretty as your face." His smile widened as the hot blush spread over my cheeks and crept down my neck. His flirtation was bold, and I wondered how many women and young girls had fallen for his charm.

"Hook," my father growled, a warning obvious in his unspoken threat, "Get on with it."

"Of course," he said, his eyes never leaving mine. "Holly, love-"

"Princess," I corrected him, feeling a little breathless. He was charming, yes, and handsome, but I had to firmly remind myself that he was a pirate. A wanted pirate with a bounty on his head, although I wasn't entirely sure for what. Sure, there were stories, but stories quickly got spun into tall tales, and no one seemed to know for sure anymore what crime Hook had actually committed.

I made a note to ask my father later. Surely, he would know.

Hook's face fell slightly at my correction, and I could see irritation lace into his features.

"My apologizes, _Princess_ Holly," he said, sounding bored. I nodded, not giving him the satisfaction of hearing my voice, although he seemed unbothered by it.

Part of me was a bit disappointed, but I quickly pushed the feeling away.

"Hook," I began.

" _Captain,"_ he corrected me in the same tone I had him, and I felt a spark of nerve ignite in my belly.

"Enough," my father stated as Hook and I exchanged a glare. "Get on with it before I have my men drag you to the dungeons."

Hook didn't seem fazed. He shifted, trying to get more comfortable, and I was sure that his legs were probably falling asleep by now, pins and needles beginning to spread over his calves and down into his toes.

 _Good,_ I thought.

"My plan is simple," he said, finally propping himself up on the back on his heels, leaning back to take some of the pressure off of his knees. "Holly comes with me, and-"

"Absolutely not!"

"Hear me out, mate," Hook said, as he began to try and stand, but I could hardly hear him over the hammering heartbeat in my ears. The guard who had slapped Hook before stepped forward and kicked him in the back of the knees. Hook hissed a swear as he fell to his knees once more, his azure eyes igniting with anger. "Don't. Touch me. Again." he growled, his velvety voice turned rough.

The guard only smirked before lifting his boot.

"Kemp," my father said, a hint of worry in his voice, but Kemp wasn't listening, and he brought his boot down in between Hook's shoulder blades, sending him falling forward without his hands to catch him.

At the last minute, Hook turned, making sure his shoulder took the brunt of his fall, and I winced at the sound as his shoulder met the stone.

Hook groaned as he pushed himself back up, bringing his legs under him before leaning back to his original position. When he looked up, his features had darkened, much like the way Pan's had, and a leap in my stomach told me something was very wrong.

Then, there was a swipe of silver, the sound of cloth tearing, and then a flash of red as Kemp let out a howl of pain. The guard clutched at his thigh, which was now bleeding heavily through the cloth of his pants and his fingers as Hook stood, his hands free from their ties, lifted his own boot, and kicked Kemp square in the chest.

Kemp let out an _oomph!_ as he stumbled back into a group of guards that had swarmed to catch him.

I watched, my eyes wide and my ears ringing, as Kemp's blood dripped from the hook on Hook's left hand. He was breathing heavily, his nostrils flared and his eyes gleaming with an animalistic ferocity I had never seen in a man before.

Then, the moment of surprise seemed to pass, and a separate group of guards rushed forward to seize Hook.

"Stop!" my father's voice rang through the throne room, and the guards halted, confused looks painted on their faces. I didn't realize how tightly I had been holding onto my seat until I slowly uncurled them from around the chair's arms, my joints screaming in protest. "Get him-" he waved towards a still bleeding Kemp, "-out of here and bandaged up. The rest of you are to return to your posts."

Many of the guards immediately began to protest, but my father's patience was wearing thin, and when he threatened to demerit anyone who spoke against him everyone's mouths snapped shut. Most of the guards flooded out of the hall, not a single word passing between them until they were well out of earshot.

Those who were left flooded to either side of the throne room, their backs rigid as they stood at attention with one hand on their swords and other hand cupping the butt of the muskets that rested on their shoulders. Glancing up at the balconies, I could see that they were full, each soldier's crossbow resting on their shoulders as well, ready to fire first should the soldiers on the ground fail to draw their weapons fast enough.

Hook drew a piece of dirty cloth from an inside pocket of his coat and began to wipe Kemp's blood from his hook. He seemed to be concentrating on taking deep, even breaths, and with each one, the darkness in his features seemed to recede a little more.

"I did not realize you still harbored so much power." My father's voice, although calm, held a hint of hesitation and wonder.

Hook's eyes didn't even flicker up, but his hand faltered slightly in its cleaning. He held it up to the light, inspecting his work before returning the blood-soaked rag to his pocket.

"I would have thought the effects would have faded over time."

Hook looked up then, his bright eyes filled with something that looked like regret. "I used to think so too, mate," he said, his voice quiet. Then, the look passed and he was smirking again, his eyes full of arrogance once more, "But being powerful _and_ handsome has definitely had its advantages."

"I have no doubt." A humorless smile brushed my father's lips before he said, "Now, Hook, I want to know why you're here."

"I already told you. I want to help."

My father and Hook stared each other down for several moments before my father asked, "Give me one good reason why I should believe you when you say you want to help. How do I know you won't just hand Holly over to Pan yourself if I entrust her to you?"

Hook shrugged. "You don't."

A dry laugh passed my lips before I could think better of it. I could feel my father's disapproving gaze on me, so I swallowed hard and forced myself to remain calm. How could my father even consider the possibility of handing me over to Hook for protection? The man was a criminal! Hook only smiled at me, amusement written on his face in the way one corner of his mouth turned up.

"Let's just say for the sake of this ridiculous conversation that I believe you," my father said, leaning forward, ignoring my wide-eyed plea not to encourage the pirate. "You can't tell me that you want to help because it's the right thing to do." Hook's grin widened. "You want something."

"Of course I do!" Hook beamed, holding his hands out to either side of him. "I'm a pirate, mate. I don't do anything unless there's something in it for me."

"Then humor me," my father stated. "What's your price?"

"Father!" I reprimanded him. I couldn't take it anymore. How was he actually still having this conversation? We were talking about handing me over to a _pirate;_ a pirate who could very well be working for Pan himself.

But my protest landed on deaf ears, and my father waited patiently for Hook's reply.

Hook took his sweet time, carefully tracing the curve of his hook with his fingers, studying the gleaming silver as we sat waiting. My jaw was clenched so tight that it ached, and I wondered how my father could seem so calm and collected.

 _Maybe he actually doesn't believe Hook,_ I thought to myself, and while that helped me relax a little bit, I still couldn't shake the feeling that my father was actually considering the whole idea. _Maybe this is just humorous banter._

"My price?" Hook questioned, glancing up at us. My father nodded. "For protecting this beautiful lass?" My father nodded again, although this time it was a bit more of a jerking motion. It bothered him when Hook talked about me like some common wench. Hook studied me, something between a sigh and a moan passing over his lips, the sound deep and resonating. It made my heart pick up pace, but I thought of being handed over to Pan and it felt like my heart stopped all together.

"Well…" Hook mused and I shifted in my seat. "Besides getting to see this beauty every day-"

"Watch it, Hook," my father growled, having had enough of Hook's wandering gaze and flirtation.

"My apologizes." He smiled, the grin stretching wide as he looked at me, but it was obvious he was anything other than sorry.

"Your price, pirate. Now."

Hook's eyes met my father's, and while his grin dimmed, it didn't completely disappear. "I want all my crimes dismissed."

"I knew you were mad," my father said as he shook his head, and I watched as Hook's grin finally fled his face, leaving behind a frustrated scowl.

"I'm the only one who understands the way Pan thinks," Hook protested, but my father had heard enough. He waved a hand at the guards nearby and they stepped forward, seizing Hook my the arms, pinning them behind his back, and trying to drag him back.

But Hook wasn't going out without a fight.

He jerked out of the guard's grasp and stepped forward, shouting, "Me and my crew are the only ones strong enough to put up a fight against Pan and the Lost Boys!" The guards had seized him again, this time knocking him back to his knees, but it didn't stop his struggling.

"Enough, Hook," my father stated, his voice firm. It was the voice he used when there was no more room for discussion, but Hook did anyway. He continued to try and convince my father as the guards began to drag him away.

I waited anxiously, waiting for the darkness to swarm his features again and turn him into a dangerous fighting machine, but the farther the guards dragged him away, the less I was sure he would.

"Pan will tear her away from you, Aldwyn!" Hook shouted, twisting violently and breaking free from the guards once more, but they jerked him back before he could advance on us again. "You cannot keep her away from him! He wants her, and he will have her!"

"Is that a threat?" my father boomed, and Hook let out a frustrated sound.

"It's a bloody promise, mate! I've seen him do it before, and he'll do it again. And trust me, if Pan has to take her from you, he'll kill you in the process."

I froze, tears springing to my eyes at the thought of being kidnapped by Pan, my father lying bloody on the floor because he had refused him.

Everyone else seemed to freeze too. Hook quit struggling, and the guards quit dragging him, but they still held tight to the pirate. Even my father, flushed red and frustrated, seemed to blanch at Hook's words.

"Aldwyn, mate, you can't beat Pan. Not like this."

"Watch me."

Hook turned to me, face twisted in frustration, eyes pleading. "Holly, love, listen to me-"

"Get him out of my sight," my father ordered. "I've heard enough. Holly," he said, and I startled, "Come. We're finished here."

It was as though my body had a mind of its own because I stood, my feet steady beneath me despite the unsteady feeling in my gut. I swiped a hand underneath each of my eyes, eliminating any evidence that Hook's words had gotten to me.

As we exited the throne room, I didn't dare look back as Hook began to shout at our backs. His words echoed through my head and settled heavy onto my bones. Part of me wanted to believe that Hook could help, that there was a sure way we would be safe from Pan, but in the end, he was a pirate with a long list of crimes under his belt, and he couldn't be trusted.

But even as the door to the throne room shut behind us, snuffing out Hook's shouts and casting everything in silence, I couldn't help but feel as though we had sealed our fate.


	6. Chapter 6

He had been shouting and shaking the bars of his cell for four days. Sometime during the first night, the other prisoners down in the dungeons decided to join him, and the noise hadn't ceased, despite the guard's best attempts to silence them.

They stopped feeding them, but their hunger only made them shake the bars harder. They stopped giving them water, but their thirst only made them scream longer. The guards even went so far as to stop dumping the chamber pots in the cells, but after a few of the prisoners started emptying them themselves on the guards as they walked by… Well, that put an end to that.

They still shouted and cried and shook the iron bars, and it had quickly become so loud that even in the farthest parts of the castle, one could still hear a faint hum of their screams and the distant clanging of iron on stone.

But as I stood at the top of the stairs on the fourth day, it seemed to me that most of the other prisoners had finally given up screaming and rattling the bars of their cages. It wasn't doing them any good, and everyone who wasn't in the dungeons quickly learned to tune them out as if they were toddlers throwing a fit.

Hook kept screaming, kept shaking the bars. He was dedicated; I had to give him that.

I know that I'm stalling, that I'm afraid to descend the steps into the dungeons, but I'm desperate, and I know that I need to talk to Hook.

I took the first step down, one hand knotted into my gown while my other glided across the stone wall. Then, I took another step, and then another, and soon, I was following the curve of the steps down into the dark.

The air cooled the farther I descended, and the wall eventually became damp beneath my fingertips. The cool dampness caressed the back of neck, and I wished my hair wasn't pulled up and held in place by dozens of pins. The smell of salt, dirt, and bodily fluids soon permeated my nose, and I had to hold a perfumed rag over my nose to keep from gagging.

Soon, I couldn't see the light from the hall above me anymore, and I still couldn't see the bottom, but Hook's shouts were getting louder with each step, telling me I was getting close. The only light came from torches evenly spaced along the wall, their flickering flames casting my long shadow across the opposite wall.

I froze when I heard footsteps coming up behind me, hushed voices hardly reaching my ears over Hook's shouts.

"Get this: We sent out men to retrieve the rest of the crew, and when we got there, it was empty. Empty!"

"Do you think they slipped away before you got there?"

"Doubt it. The ones who met Hook on shore said they didn't see another soul on that ship. I bet they're all dead, and Hook was just lucky to land that thing in our harbor without incident."

Just then, they came into sight, their eyes widening in surprise.

"Princess Holly," Carlisle exclaimed. "What are you doing down here?"

"Your Majesty," Harlan's voice cut through my surprise at seeing them both, "Don't take this the wrong way, but you can't be down here."

"I need to speak with Hook," I said, trying to muster as much authority as I could. Harlan cocked an eyebrow and Carlisle's shot up, clearly in disbelief.

"Does His Majesty know you're down here?" Harlan asked, and I straightened to my full height. Even though they were taller than me anyway, their position on the steps made them look like giants. When I didn't answer, Harlan sighed and shook his head before turning on his heel. He didn't look back as he ordered, "Let's go, Princess."

"No."

Harlan's step faltered. He turned his head to glare down at me. "I have orders from my superior-"

"And my orders override them," I stated coolly. "Now, either you can take me to Hook's cell, or I can go find it myself."

"Why do you want to speak to Hook?" came Carlisle's timid voice. When I turned my attention back to him, his eyes were wide with curiosity and, unlike Harlan, he didn't seem to care that I wanted to speak to Hook in the first place.

It wasn't a question I had expected.

"Hook knows Pan best," I said, my voice wavering with all the uncertainty I felt. "And if he knows a way to stop Pan, then I want to know too."

Carlisle's eyes filled with something between understanding and pity. I couldn't read Harlan's expression.

Harlan opened his mouth. "His Majesty and his council are brainstorming ideas to-"

"They've been brainstorming for days!" The words came out louder and much harsher than I expected, but now that I had started, I couldn't stop. "Pan will be back in three days, and we are nowhere close to figuring out how to stop him from taking me!"

Carlisle's eyes dropped to his feet as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Harlan pressed his lips together in a tight line. I could tell that he wanted to argue, but I was far from done. The dams of worry and anger that I had so carefully built were broken, and now they were flooding together in my gut, sending me into a spiral of panic.

"Hook showed up at the perfect time, claiming that he would help us, help _me,_ and all for the price of forgiving his crimes!"

"He's a pirate, Princess," Harlan stated, his tone cold. "You can't trust a single thing that comes out of his mouth."

"Was he lying when he said that he's the only one who knows how Pan thinks?" I challenged, and I saw Harlan's jaw set, his eyes burning. "Was he lying when he said that he and his crew are the only ones who can put up a fight against Pan and the Lost Boys? Answer me, Harlan!" I shouted, my voice sounding thunderous in the narrow space.

The silence that settled around us was unnerving, and it was only then that I realized that Hook and the prisoners weren't shouting anymore. They weren't rattling the cell doors either.

All was silent.

And Harlan still wouldn't answer me.

"Cat got your tongue, mate?" Hook's hoarse voice floated up to us. He sounded as though he was talking around a mouth full of sand. I guess shouting for four days probably stripped his vocal chords.

"You've got five minutes, Princess," Harlan said, ignoring Hook's question. "Ask him anything you want, but I'm telling you, he won't be able to help."

"I'll be the judge of that, thank you." But Harlan was already heading back up the stairs, mumbling that he'd keep watch and that if anyone caught me, there would no doubt be trouble.

Carlisle hesitated a moment, seeming to be torn between coming with me and turning back. In the end, he gave me the same look of pity mixed with worry and shrugged before turning to follow Harlan.

"Anyone there?" Hook asked, sounding amused.

I found him at the bottom of the stairs in the first cell to my right. The perfumed rag had found its spot back over my nose, but even that didn't keep out the foul smells.

"No need to cover your pretty face," Hook said with a smirk as I glared at him. I had expected him to look terrible, but aside from the general rumpled look of his hair and clothes, he looked just as he had the day he had arrived. That, and the purple bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, which seemed much darker against his bright blue eyes.

"Who's that?" a nasally voice asked, and I saw a few prisoners press themselves up against their bars to get a look.

"It seems Princess Holly has come to pay me a visit," Hook responded, leaning against his own cell. Then, he peeked out between two of the cell bars and lowered his voice. "Isn't that right, love?"

"The princess?" the nasally voice asked again, incredulous. "What's the royal whore doing down here visitin' you?" Many others echoed his words, and soon all I could hear was a bunch captive men calling me a whore. My cheeks burned red, and I felt all the insults I could think of slide up to the tip of my tongue, but as I was about to snap back, Hook spoke.

"You all should be ashamed of yourselves! Calling the lady a whore is no way to start off on the right foot. Were you all raised under a bridge?"

"I was raised in a barn," was the first response. It was a new voice, one that I imagined belonged to a burly man with an uneven head from where he was dropped one too many times.

"Shut it, Bromley!" came the unified response, but it seemed to distract the other prisoners from my presence, for which I was grateful. The prisoners disappeared back into the shadows of their cells, grumbling as they tried to get comfortable.

"So," Hook asked as he leaned back and stretched, his hand and one hook holding firmly to the bars, "To what do I owe the pleasure of having _you_ visit me?"

"I need to know how to beat Pan."

Hook finished stretching, pulled himself back against the cell bars, and stared at me, one dark eyebrow disappearing into his hair.

"Daddy's having a hard time figuring out a plan, aye?" His tone was casual, as if we weren't talking about Pan's plan to rip me away from my father, and it infuriated me. It took every ounce of energy not to take the two strides up to his cell, reach in, and wring his neck.

"He and the council are brainstorming," I started, Harlan's excuse weak on my own lips.

"With three days left?" Hook quipped. When I didn't answer, he tsked. "Love, this is a dangerous line your father's walking. But you already know that, don't you?" His smirk had returned, his bright eyes twinkling in the torch light. The dark stubble that decorated his face looked darker in the shadows, or maybe it was because he hadn't shaved in a few days.

"You said that you're the only one who understands the way Pan thinks." I stated, taking a step closer. I lowered the perfumed cloth, my voice sounding muffled beneath it, and repressed the urge to gag.

Hook nodded. "I did."

"Then what's he planning to do? What does he want with me?"

He gave me a small, sad smile. "I can't tell you that, love."

Anger flared hot in my gut. "And why not?" I demanded, my composure starting to slip as panic began to creep through my veins. I needed Hook to help me. I needed him to cooperate.

"Because, one," he held up a finger, "I don't know _what_ the little bastard is planning, and two," he held up a second, "Even if I _did_ know, there's nothing your father or any of his guards could do to stop it. I said that I understand the way Pan thinks. I didn't say I could read his mind."

I tried to take a deep breath to calm my nerves, but as I exhaled, the shake was obvious. Tears stung the back of my eyes as I felt my hope begin to crumble. In an attempt to keep the tears from falling and giving myself away completely, I clamped my eyes shut and ducked my head.

Then, I heard Hook sigh. "Love, it's all going to be alright."

I jolted when I felt rough, calloused fingertips brush against the back of my hand. I snatched my hand away, a blush creeping into my cheeks as I watched a smile appear at the corners of Hook's lips. He pulled his hand back into his cell, seeming completely unfazed by the touch.

"How?" I asked, trying not to choke on the knot forming in my throat. "How do you know that?"

He motioned for me to step closer, his eyes flicking all around as if what he had to say was a secret and he worried about someone overhearing.

I took a step closer, convincing myself that there was nothing he could really do locked behind bars, not with Harlan and Carlisle just up the stairs. All it would take would be a scream, and they'd come running.

He was leaning against the bars again, his face pressed in between two bars. I wrapped my hands around two of the bars, the stink of iron leaving a metallic taste in my mouth, but it was much better than the smell of urine. I leaned in close.

"You want to know how I know it's all going to work out?" he whispered, his voice husky. I nodded, holding my breath. He gave me a wide grin and a small chuckle.

And then his hand was tangled in my hair, his fingers snaked in between the pins that kept it in place, leaving me at his mercy. I opened my mouth to scream, but his lips crashed against mine before I could, his lips dry, cracked, and hot.

And as quickly as it had started, it was over. His fingers slipped out of my hair and he pulled back, a giant grin plastered on his face.

My skin pricked where his stubble had pressed into my skin and my lips suddenly felt cold. I couldn't tell if the flush that had coated my body was from anger or from embarrassment or maybe a bit of both.

My mind was a whirlwind, and he seemed to enjoy it.

"I know it's all going to be alright, Holly love," he purred, leaning against the bars again, and this time, I backed away, my fingertips brushing my lips, "Because I said it will be. And just like Pan, I always get what I want."

###

I startled awake with a gasp and shot straight up in bed. I quickly scanned my dark room, making sure that the nightmare was just that and that Pan wasn't lurking just out of sight.

My heart hammered away against my ribs as the growl of thunder rumbled outside, and I felt way too hot. I kicked off the mountain of covers and pulled my knees to my chest, resting my head on top of them as I took deep breaths to calm my rapid heartbeat. The cotton of my white nightgown was soft against my cheek, and I tried to focus on that instead of the lingering images of my nightmare.

"Bad dream?" came a voice and I jumped, my fingers tangling into the bedspread as my eyes scanned the darkness. I knew that voice.

And then he stepped out of the shadows in the far corner of my room, tall and rumpled, his hook catching the glint of the moon. A flash of lightening came and went, making his pale skin seem ghostly white.

"H-How?" I stumbled, the heavy _thud-thum_ of my heart pulsing in my head.

And then he held up a few glinting, needle like objects that I had to squint at, and I cursed myself.

My hair pins.

He had used the kiss as a distraction to slip a few from my hair and use them to pick the dungeon lock. Clever.

He slipped the pins away in an inside pocket before walking towards me. More flashes of lightening made his movements seem jagged and broken. I shuffled back, only to hit the oak headboard of my bed.

He wrapped a hand tightly around my wrist. "Time to go, love."


	7. Chapter 7

He yanked me from my bed, my attempt to hold on to the mattress futile. I reached back, trying to wrap my fingers around the bed post, but he yanked me to him, my body pressed flush against his.

"Holly love," he said through gritted teeth as I tried to pull away, "Please, don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Let go of me!" I shouted, continuing to twist and turn as I tried to get away, but Hook held firm, his arms snaking tighter around my waist. "Guards!" I shouted. "Help!"

"Holly-" Hook warned, but the door to my room had already swung open, and two guards stepped through the door.

"Everything all right, Captain?" one of the men asked and I felt my heart sink. I stopped struggling and tried to get a good look at the men who had entered my room. A bright flash revealed two men in the palace uniform, but they weren't the guards who usually stood watch outside my door.

"Everything's fine, Axton," Hook answered in a forced chipper tone. "Holly here is just being difficult." The men sneered as Hook peered down at me, bringing his face close to mine. "Isn't that right, love?" I glared up at him, but it didn't seem to hurt his feelings.

"Ready, Captain?" the second man asked. Hook nodded, and the man turned to glare at me before stating, "We could gag her and knock her out. She looks light enough to carry."

I stiffened.

"That won't be necessary, boys," Hook stated, and the second man seemed genuinely disappointed. I made a mental note to stay as far away from him as possible. Hook's grip around my waist and loosened, and I took the opportunity to step away from him, but he still wrapped his right hand tightly around my wrist to keep me close.

Just then, a tall, scrawny man skidded to a halt in front of my door, out of breath with his face flushed red. He was also in palace uniform, but once again, he wasn't a guard I recognized.

"How many of you are there?" I asked, and the second man grinned, revealing mostly blackened teeth.

"Enough to get you out of here without being noticed," he said. A knot was starting to form in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

"It's time," the lanky man stated in between gulps of air. "Everyone is in their positions and the storm's at her peak."

All three men looked to Hook. He gave the men a nod, and they started towards my bedroom door. Then, he turned to me, a crack of thunder sending chills down my spine as the cold steel of his hook found its way beneath my chin, tilting my head up so I had to look at him.

"Why?" I asked him. I was thankful my voice didn't portray the fear that was beginning to sink into my skin.

He didn't pretend he didn't know what I was talking about, for which I was grateful. I didn't want to play games, and it seemed that Hook didn't either.

"I told your father that you'd be safer with me-"

"Right," I quipped, my voice drenched in sarcasm, "And you're telling me that you're kidnapping me for the sake of being good?"

Hook grinned. "Hardly. Do you remember the price I gave your father for keeping you safe?"

"You wanted your crimes forgiven."

He nodded. "And he denied me. So, now, I have to force it out of him."

Something clicked inside my mind, and it made me hate Hook a little more. "You're-"

"Going to hold you for ransom." Hook finished for me, smiling in approval. "Exactly. And to think, we could have skipped this whole mess if he would have just said yes. Now," he leaned in even closer, our noses almost touching, and dropped his voice to a whisper, "We can do this one of two ways. You can either come with me willingly, no struggling, no screaming, _or_ you can scream and struggle and force me to knock you unconscious and carry you. Either way, love, you're going to end up on my ship, so I suggest you make your choice carefully."

We stared hard at each other for a moment, a silent battle of wills, until the scrawny man peeked his head back into the room and said it was time to move. Even then, Hook didn't look away.

Finally, I looked away, feeling my shoulders sag in defeat. I had expected a smirk from Hook or some sort of witty remark, but all he did was nod and pull on my wrist, making his way to my bedroom door with me in tow.

Goosebumps rose on my arms and legs as we stepped into the hall, my bare feet padding against the cool marble. The man with black teeth and the tall, lanky one walked ahead of Hook and I while the other man walked behind us. The castle's halls were empty, with no hope of a familiar face in sight.

"How much time do we have, Fane?" Hook asked.

"Close to an hour," the tall man answered without looking back. "As long as no one shows up early for post change. And as long as all the guards we knocked out stay that way."

I felt my gut twist at the thought of all the guards that were supposed to keep me and my father safe knocked out by a bunch of pirates, but as long as they were knocked out and not killed… Well, I'd take it.

"We'll be cutting it a bit close on foot don't you think?" The question was calm enough, but his iron grip on my wrist tightened a little more, indicating a hidden anger that he wasn't letting show. At least, not yet.

Fane flashed a toothy grin over his shoulder, his dark eyes twinkling. "No worries, Captain. Luck is on our side tonight."

"Meaning what exactly?"

"We won't be returning to the Jolly Roger on foot. We snagged ourselves a carriage. We'll be long gone before they even know what happened."

Hook shook his head and smiled. "Fane, you brilliant bastard." Fane beamed at Hook's approval, his steps turning into more of a strut as we rounded another corner. My mind reeled as we continued to walk, Hook's hand wrapped tightly around my wrist. I needed to get away from him, from the group of them, and find help. Surly, someone could run and get _real_ guards.

Then, girlish giggles filled the air, and I felt my heart swell.

"This way!" Fane hissed, and everyone immediately ducked into an alcove filled with shadows. As Hook yanked me to him, my back pressed against his chest, I opened my mouth to let out a scream, but Hook had let go of my wrist and slapped his hand over my mouth, his other arm quickly winding its way around me to hold me in place.

"One peep," he whispered, his breath hot on the side of my face, "And I'll give the order to have them killed, and their blood will be on your hands. Understand?"

I didn't answer. I clenched my fists and willed myself not to cry as a sob rose in my throat. I tried telling myself that none of it was real, that all of it was just a terrible nightmare and that I would wake up at any moment.

But as Hook's nails dug into the side of my cheek I knew that I wasn't going to wake up.

"Holly, please," his whisper sounded desperate as the chatting servants grew closer, "I don't want anyone to die tonight. Please, just stay quiet."

I could see the servant's shadows. They would be passing the little alcove any moment. I gave a small nod, so small I wasn't even sure it registered under Hook's hand.

Everyone held their breath as the girls passed us by, completely unaware of the pirates or myself. As they continued their way down the hall, Fane craned his head out and watched them.

"They're heading towards the server's quarters," he whispered as he motioned us forward. "Let's go."

We didn't pass another soul until we reached the top of the stairs. There, another man, with wide shoulders and dark, course hair sprouting from everywhere other than his head, was waiting for us.

"Langley," Hook greeted, and the man inclined his head. "Lead on, lad."

"Yes, captain." His voice was low and rumbled in his chest. We descended the steps with Langley leading the way. His footsteps were heavy and echoed off the walls, and I watched as everyone but Hook cringed with each step.

"Could you be any louder?" the pirate with black teeth hissed as his head swiveled around, looking for on-coming trouble. Langley only growled. "Where are we going anyway?"

I had started to wonder the same thing. After we reached the bottom of the stairs, we had veered to the left, away from the front doors to the palace.

"Won't go through the front doors," Langley drawled, his words coming out slower than molasses. "Too risky. We're going through the kitchens."

"The kitchens? What are we? Rats?"

"Something like that."

I could have sworn that I only said the words in my head, but the words had come tumbling out of my mouth.

"Come again?" the black toothed pirate snarled, whirling on me. He took a step toward me, only to be stopped by Hook.

"Calm down, Gresham," Hook said, shooting the man a warning look. I could tell he wanted to say something, to spit an insult at me or to slap me across the face with the back of his hand, but his captain had given him an order, and as much as he didn't want to, he did what he was told.

The men continued on, and as I took a step forward to follow, Hook whirled on me. His azure eyes blazed and his dark brows knitted together.

"Let's make something very clear, love," he said, his voice cold. "I may be these boys' captain, but they aren't dogs."

"Could have fooled me," I stated. Even as the words left my mouth, I knew I had crossed a line. Hook twisted my wrist and a sharp pain shot up my arm, making me whimper.

"Watch your mouth," Hook hissed.

"Ow! O-okay! I'm sorry!" The pain was white hot now, and I wondered if he would twist it just a little bit farther, breaking it. When he relaxed his grip, the pain instantly drained away, and I let out a shuddered breath, tears beading in the outer corners of my eyes.

"That's better. Now, I suggest you start playing nice. It'll make everyone's lives much easier." He didn't give me a chance to answer, dragging me to catch up with Fane, Gresham, Langley, and Axton.

The kitchens were dark and quiet, unlike its usual bright and boisterous self. There weren't any delicious smells of spices and melted chocolate in the air and, with the stoves off, it wasn't blistering hot.

I had spent quite a bit of my days as a little girl exploring the kitchens, hiding in cupboards and taste testing all sorts of yummy things that the cooks made up. I'd fill the sinks with too many suds and would usually return to my room with my hair soaked from a water fight I started with a few of the servants. My father would always try to scold me, try to tell me that it wasn't appropriate for a princess to act in such a way, but he couldn't hide the smile that always tugged at his lips. Not to mention that the food that ended up on our table was mouth wateringly delicious.

The cooks always gave me all the credit and my father would chuckle and shake his head.

"Well," he'd say after a particularly delicious meal, "If being a princess doesn't work out, you can always work in the kitchens." Then, I'd chuckle and declare it was time for dessert, in which he would groan and complain that he'd have to loosen his belt.

But after Peter took John, I had stopped visiting the kitchens. It didn't seem fair for me to enjoy abundance amounts of food and fun while he suffered.

And now, I would probably never see these kitchens again, would probably never taste the sweetness of melted sugar or spiciness of roasted red peppers mixed with tomato paste and oregano.

The back entrance to the kitchens was open, and another pirate stood in wait with a carriage just beyond the door. He was drenched, and the rain was falling at a sharp angle with the wind. It was the roll of thunder that brought my mind back completely. I hadn't realized I was crying until the blurriness passed, the tears falling onto my cheeks. My throat and chest were tight and my feet felt like they were full of lead.

"Everything's ready, Captain," Gresham reported after chatting quickly with the pirate at the door. Hook nodded and ordered the men to pile into the carriage. He then ordered the new pirate to take the reins.

"Time to go, love," he said with a glance over his shoulder at me. When he saw me though, he stopped and turned to face me completely. I couldn't read his face.

The knot in my chest squeezed tighter and I couldn't hold back the wave of sadness that washed over me. I choked out a sob, more tears sliding down over my cheeks as I shook my head.

"P-please," I begged, all my pride flying out the window, "Please, just let me go. You can leave. I won't tell a soul how you escaped, and I'll find a way to have your crimes forgiven. Just, let me stay here."

Hook only shook his head. "I can't do that," he stated simply and I took a shaky breath.

"Why?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he studied me, his brows furrowing slightly as his bright eyes scanned over my face. He unfurled his fingers from around my wrist and took a step closer to me. Reaching up with his right hand, he wiped away the tears on my cheeks and the ones that slid down my neck.

"Why?" I asked again, my voice sounding so small and pathetic in my ears.

"Ready, Captain?" Gresham called through the torrential downpour.

And in a blink, he was back to being my kidnapper. He dropped his hand and it resumed its spot on my wrist. "Why?" he repeated my question back at me, his voice sounding a bit hollow. I nodded, new tears springing to my eyes as I felt my freedom slipping away beneath me. "Because I want my crimes forgiven, and the only way I'm going to get what I want is if I do this."

I shook my head and tried to protest, but Hook was already dragging me out the door and out into the downpour.

The rain cut through my nightgown in an instant, needles of cold pricking my skin and causing my heart to jolt into a thundering rhythm. I couldn't see, the water was rushing into my eyes faster than I could wipe it away.

I felt rough hands grab me as Hook let go, and I tried to twist away, but the hands held tight, hoisting me up so my feet didn't touch the ground.

"Hold still," came Gresham's coarse voice, but his tone was far from comforting.

Then, they all let me go, and I fell backwards onto someone.

"Miss me?" came Hook's smooth voice. "I was only gone a moment, love."

I finally wiped away the rain water and looked around, only to find myself in the carriage, each seat taken by Gresham, Langley, Axton, Fane, and Hook. And my seat, it seemed, was on Hook's lap.

The sadness from the kitchens was quickly replaced by anger, and I reared my hand back to slap him, but he caught my hand and pinned it in my lap, a triumphant smirk on his face.

"I hate you," I spat, but that only made him chuckle.

"Don't be that way, love," he crooned and I glared at him. Then, he shouted, "Move out!"

The carriage jolted forward, and we were off. And with each step the horse took, I could feel my hope for rescue getting smaller and smaller. The farther we got away from the castle, the less chance I had of a guard stumbling upon us.

I couldn't let them take me. I couldn't let Hook win.

And without the palace guard's help, it seemed that I would have to save myself.


	8. Chapter 8

I tried to control the shivering as the adrenaline began to subside, but it seemed impossible. The longer I sat there, the colder I became, and soon I was shivering uncontrollably.

"Cold?" Hook asked.

"No," I stated as another wave of shudders ran through me.

Hook arched an eyebrow. "Right," he drawled. "As if your blue lips didn't give anything away."

"You're the one who dragged me out of my chambers without a coat or shoes," I quipped.

"And I'm afraid we don't have either of those things to spare," Hook said with a shrug before his bright eyes twinkled in a way that made my stomach turn. "You know we could always just get nice and cozy… together." He gave me a wink and I felt my heart stumble. I opened my mouth to give a sarcastic remark, to shut down his advances, but nothing came out. Embarrassed, I snapped my mouth shut and averted my eyes.

"Look at that," Fane teased, "Looks like she's warming up just fine from all that blushing!"

I reacted without thinking. I lurched across the carriage, my fists curled tight and ready to connect with skin and bone, the sting from the cold sharp in my aching joints and tight skin, but Hook seemed to be able to read my mind, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me back against him as the others snickered.

"Easy, love," he soothed. "No need to get feisty."

But I had had enough of their cooing. I threw back my left shoulder as hard as I could while still wrapped tight in Hook's arms. I felt my shoulder connect, and Hook's head fell back as he bit back a growl.

"Captain!" Gresham exclaimed before shooting a feral glance my way. "Why, you little bitch!" He seized me by the front of my nightgown and I felt my heart drop to my stomach.

"Easy, Gresham," Hook's voice was calm, which made me even more nervous. Both Gresham and I looked to Hook to find him smiling, blood covering his teeth and his lips. "She made me bite my lip is all. No harm done."

Gresham was furious, nostrils flared, eyes burning, and his fingers still tangled in the front of my nightgown, but as he opened his mouth to protest, the carriage began to slow, and everyone seemed to be on high alert.

"We're here!" came the pirate's voice that had been in control of the reins. No one wasted any time exiting the carriage back into the frigid rain, not even Hook, and soon I was shivering again with each new blanket of water that washed over us.

A bright flash of lightening briefly illuminated our surroundings, and I couldn't help but wonder what we were doing there.

We were on the farthest Northern point of Mystasia. Thick trees lined either side of a small path just big enough for a carriage, and we were standing in a small clearing of trees. The smell of sea salt hung in the air despite the downpour, and I knew that just up ahead where it looked like the hill crested, there was a sharp drop off. A cliff.

And nothing but ocean below save for a bunch of sharp rocks.

Hook's men had already started up the hill, trudging in the slick mud as water washed down the hill around their feet.

"There she is, Captain!" Axton shouted from atop the hill, and Hook beamed. Grabbing my arm, he began to drag me up the hill. Mud squished up in between my toes with every step and each time I slipped, Hook was there to steady me.

When we reached the top of the hill, I spotted the Jolly Roger, masts rippling in the high wind and flag flying high. Flashes of lightening illuminated crew members running around on deck as they tried to keep the ship afloat as it rocked dangerously in the water. Behind it, just peaking over the horizon, was the island where Peter Pan and the Lost Boys lived. The island didn't have a name. No one lived on it long enough to give it one.

A hand rested on the small of my back and nudged me forward. "Down we go," Hook said sounding pleased.

"W-what?" I stuttered as I turned to look at him. His black hair was plastered to his forehead, and his skin had been washed pale by the cool rain, making his azure eyes look ice blue.

"Just follow their steps exactly and you'll be just fine," he explained, his hook motioning towards his men.

But when I looked back, they had disappeared. Gently, Hook led me to the edge of the cliff and pointed down. All four of the men were shuffling against the cliff's steep face, their feet sliding across a ledge hardly large enough for their giant feet. And at the bottom of the cliff, in between the jagged rocks was a rowboat, tied securely to one of the larger rocks. It bumped against the cliff with every wave of water, but it seemed solid and in one piece.

"Just take it slow and you'll be fine." Hook reassured me, the pressure in the small of my back anything but encouraging.

I felt my heart slam into my ribcage and my chest get tight as if someone had reached into my chest and was squeezing the breath from me. No matter how many breaths I took, I couldn't shake the dizzy feeling. As I stared down at the tiny rowboat, the world began to tilt and spots appeared in my field of vision.

I started to think about the worst possible scenarios. If I slipped at any point on the way down the cliff's face, I would be impaled by sharp rocks and die. And if I was so unlucky as _not_ to die, than I would surly break several bones and be in excruciating pain.

If I was lucky enough to make it to the rowboat, then what would happen? The only way to get to the Jolly Roger was in the row boat, but with how dangerously the ship was tipping, I couldn't imagine the rowboat surviving the journey, and if I fell into the water…

I would drown. I would drown because I couldn't swim. My lungs would fill with salt water and I would suffocate. I would be tossed around like a bath toy, and the ocean would have no regard to my suffering.

"Holly?" Hook's voice sounded far away, concerned and yet I could tell he was getting impatient.

There was a crack of thunder and a wave hurled itself into the cliff face, sending up a wall of sea spray that filled my nostrils and made me gag.

"Holly." came Hook's voice again, and it was only then that I realized I was trying to back away, shaking my head as I opened my mouth to protest, to say anything at all.

"No," I croaked, twisting out of Hook's grasp and backing away towards the trees.

"You'll be fine," Hook assured me, but even he didn't sound so sure. I shook my head, and all of Hook's patience vanished. He set his jaw and lunged for me, but I was ready. I twisted away again and then took off as fast as I could, trying not to slip and fall as I tried to reach the carriage before Hook.

I didn't dare look back. I focused on the carriage, on the horse, and prayed that I would be faster than Hook.

I could hardly believe it when I reached the carriage. I heard Hook yelling at my back, then heard him swear as I began to hoist myself up.

 _Almost there,_ I thought, _Almost. Almost._

A loud crack of thunder, louder than anything that had erupted so far, crashed across the sky. The horse startled, rearing back before taking off, the jolt knocking me back, my hands grasping at empty air until I hit the ground, all the air being pushed from my lungs.

My lungs burned as I wheezed and I seemed to momentarily forget how to breathe. Rain pelted my face, burning my eyes like involuntary tears. A mixture of mud and rainwater soaked through the back of my already drenched nightgown and coated the back of my arms and legs.

Finally, breath resumed filling my lungs and I rolled myself over onto my hands and knees, both sinking into the soft earth as I tried to get my bearings.

And I came face to face with a pair of black leather boots with silver buckles.

Hook. I had almost forgotten all about him.

When he didn't say anything or drag me to my feet, I tilted my face up to look at him. He stood tall, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyebrows raised. Rain dripped off the ends of his hair and down to the ground where I was.

"Are you done?" he asked, sounding annoyed, as if I was a child that was misbehaving instead of a girl trying to escape her kidnapper.

I didn't say anything. I didn't have anything _to_ say. Instead, I leaned back on my heels, much like Hook had when they had first brought him to the throne room that first day, and hung my head. I wouldn't admit defeat, at least, not out loud.

But I _was_ defeated. Without the horse and carriage, there was no way I would make it back to the castle before Hook caught up to me. We were too far away and I wasn't familiar with the path back. With how hard the rain was falling, I'd be surprised if there was any path left to follow.

I heard him sigh and then felt him step closer. I didn't move. His fingers wrapped around my upper arm and pulled me to my fight, and I didn't fight him, just kept my eyes on the ground.

"Captain?"

The suddenness of the voice made me look up. There stood Langley, soaked to the bone just like us, his broad shoulders back and his stance anything but friendly.

"Langley, lad, I'm glad you're here," Hook said, his exasperation with me shining through slightly. "Would you please escort Holly down the cliff face? It seems she has quite the fear of heights."

 _And falling to my death,_ I thought. _And drowning in that bath toy of a rowboat._

But I stayed silent.

Langley's expression didn't change. He simply nodded and then took a giant step towards me. My instinct was to back away, but Hook held me in my place, and before I knew it, Langley was wrapping a tree-trunk sized arm around my waist and was hoisting me over his shoulder. I yelped, but either Hook and Langley didn't hear it or they didn't care.

"Just hold still, love, and maybe this brute won't drop you." I glared at Hook, but his usual smirk had returned. Then, there was slap to my rear that I hadn't been expecting and I yelped again, the cold causing an extra sting to erupt from Hook's hand. "Let's go. The boys should be waiting for us at the bottom by now."

Langley grunted, and then we were off.

Before we started our descent, Langley shifted me from his shoulder, holding me tight against his front. I curled my arms around his neck, feeling panic rise up in me as my toes hung in the air over the ledge.

"Hold still, love," Hook said, his voice steady. I didn't say anything, just buried my face into Langley's shoulder and tried to focus on breathing. Slowly, Langley began to shuffle down the cliff face. More than once, he slipped, and each time, my heart would jump to my throat. He'd regain his balance and I'd whimper, and Hook would reassure me that everything was going to be fine. "We're almost there, Holly," he tried to soothe. "Just a little farther."

Then, Langley stiffened and his grip tightened, making it hard to breathe. Hook shouted something, but I didn't hear it. Then, cold ocean water pounded down on us, forcing itself in my nose and down the back of my throat. I tried to breathe, but then my lungs filled with salty sea water. I choked so hard that I started to gag.

"Hurry!" I heard Axton shout, and then Langley was shuffling again.

"Breathe through your nose," Langley said, the words coming as slow as molasses. I did as he said, and although I still sputtered, I could breathe without my lungs burning too bad.

"Here comes another one!" Hook shouted, and this time I was ready. I took in a deep breath and buried my face so the sea water wouldn't find its way into my nose. Another wave of ice crashed over our heads, and I wondered if Langley's footing would hold much longer.

Once the wave disappeared, Langley shuffled again, quicker this time. Then, before I knew it, I was being handed off to Fane, who was the only one in the tiny row boat, holding onto the oars. The others were hanging onto the rowboat, keeping it nestled between the sharp rocks and keeping it from being ripped back out into the ocean by the relentless waves.

One last wave rained down on us, and then everyone piled in.

"Give her here," Hook said to Fane, and Fane pushed me into Hook's outstretched arms. He caught me and pulled me to him, my shoulders pressed against his chest, which was rising and falling in sync with the thudding of my heartbeat. I could feel his own hammering heartbeat in between my shoulder blades, the only indication that he was as frightened as I was. Other than that, his face was like stone, his bright eyes determined and calculating as he watched the water.

"Mates, listen closely," Hook ordered, his voice almost being washed out by the thunder that cracked overhead. "When this next wave hits, we need to ride it back out. Fane," he turned to face the lanky pirate, "I need you to paddle as fast as you can. If we don't break the point where the waves start, we'll be carried right into the cliff side."

I felt my heart drop. Riding the rowboat back on the crest of a wave into the side of the cliff would mean that the boat would splinter and we would all either die from the impact or drown. I wasn't the only one who must have thought the same thing, because everyone looked a bit paler than before.

"Understood?" Hook asked, and I saw the wave building, getting ready to rear its ugly head. Everyone nodded and braced for the oncoming wave.

Another wave of ice pummeled the boat, the force of the wave forcing us all to hunch over. With Hook at my back, most of the water only hit my head, but the shock of the cold was just as fresh and I had to grit my teeth to keep from crying out.

When the pummeling ended, I could feel the pull of the wave beneath the boat, and without being told, Fane began to paddle as fast as he could. His long arms were covered in tight cords of muscle as he swung the oars down into the water and pulled, propelling us away from the cliff.

"Faster lad," I heard Gresham urge, his eyes glued to the ocean, and I clamped my eyes shut. If there was a giant wave swelling that was going to carry us back to our deaths, I didn't want to see it.

When I felt the boat begin to rise, it felt as though my heart stopped. Hook and the others started screaming at Fane to paddle faster. Part of me wanted to join them, but my tongue felt swollen and heavy as we rose higher and higher.

Hook took a deep breath, his chest pressing into my back, and he held it, his arms tightening around me.

And then the boat was falling, my stomach swooping slightly with the rapid descent. My eyes flew open when Hook sighed in relief.

"That's a boy!" Gresham shouted with a black, toothy grin. He slapped Fane on the shoulder, but the pirate only kept paddling. I craned my neck in time to watch the wave that had risen beneath us crash into the cliff.

I couldn't help but smile. We had beaten the wave.

"Pretty exciting, isn't it?"

When I turned my eyes to Hook, he was smiling. I felt my stomach plummet again in the same way it had when the wave passed beneath us, and I ducked my head, reminding myself that these were my kidnappers and that Hook wasn't doing this to give me an adventure rush.

But it _was_ exhilarating.

More waves came and went and Fane's arms continued to coil and relax as he pulled at the oars, and slowly, we got closer and closer to the Jolly Roger. With each new flash of lightening, the boat would light up and seem to grow. More than once, I found myself looking at the mermaid that was carved on the front, her red hair even brighter in the darkness.

Then, suddenly, the storm changed. The air seemed charged, and I felt goosebumps rise on my numb arms. Hook swore and then so did everyone else. Then the panic sunk in.

A monster wave, larger than any of the others we had faced, loomed above our heads, preparing to fall.

And we wouldn't be able to outrun it.

"Prepare to swim, lads!" Hook shouted as the roar of the water became deafening.

 _I can't swim!_ I wanted to shout, but the terror I felt wrapped its fingers around my throat and kept me silent. _I can't-_

The wave was on top of us, tossing the boat over as if it didn't weigh anything at all. No one had time to scream as the wave pushed us all under the surface.


	9. Chapter 9

My first mistake was opening my eyes. The salt water instantly seared my eyes and I made my second mistake.

I sucked in a breath only to have my lungs fill with ocean water. My chest burned and I willed myself to rid my lungs of the water, but I couldn't. I only kept taking in more water, and with every bit of water that filled my lungs, I felt my body getting heavier. I clawed desperately, kicking my legs frantically to try and get back to the surface, but I couldn't tell if I was going up or farther down.

I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as it worked harder and harder to pump. My muscles ached and they felt heavier and heavier each time I lashed about.

Pretty soon, I stopped fighting, my arms and legs too heavy to move through the water. The burning in my chest was still there, but I could no longer focus long enough to really pay it much attention. I could feel my night gown brush against my arms and legs and my hair floating around me like a halo, and if I wasn't so tired, I probably would have smiled. If I looked the way I imagined I did, I was beautiful.

And as I floated there, somewhere beneath the surface, I wondered how long it would take me to die, if it would be painful. So far, it wasn't so bad. My eyelids were heavy and I could feel my mind slipping away into sleep.

 _Maybe this is what drowning is like,_ I thought drowsily. _Maybe it's like falling asleep._

Slowly, I felt myself slipping away, sinking deeper into the dark.

Deeper.

Deeper.

And then nothing.

###

The water that had filled my lungs suddenly came up and out.

It was still raining. How could it still be raining? How long had it been? Where was I?

I was lying face down on a hard surface, saliva falling from my mouth in long strains as I took long, opened mouth breaths. The burning sensation in my chest was almost unbearable now, but I could _breathe._

"Oh, thank the gods," said a voice, but it sounded muffled in my ears. Then, I was being turned over onto my back. I tried to help, but my limbs felt heavy and numb and no matter how many times my mind told my limbs to move, they wouldn't. "Holly," came the voice again, and I could see a face hanging above me. "Holly, talk to me."

Even though my vision was blurry from the salt water, I started to recognize the voice.

"Hook?" My voice sounded like an iron spoke being drug across stone. I blinked hard, trying to clear my vision, and while it seemed to work a little bit, everything was still fairly blurry.

"Come on," he said as he tucked one arm under my knees and wrapped another around my back, "Let's get you dry." I opened my mouth to ask what was going on, how I had went from being dead and floating in the sea to here, but Hook was already lifting me up and into his arms.

"Orders, Captain?" came a voice I didn't recognize. Hook stopped and turned, and I got a blurry glance at the man who spoke. He was shorter than Hook, probably my size, and he wore dark clothes. His skin, even in the dark, was obviously tan and the consistency of leather. His voice was deep and had a breathy grit to it that made him sound older.

"We need to be as far away from Mystasia before this storm ends." The man nodded. "We need to be very careful, but I think we can ride this wind out of here and be long gone before they know what happened."

The man nodded again before turning to shout Hook's orders to the crew.

So, we were on the Jolly Roger. I had figured before, but I hadn't been completely sure. The ship had seemed so far away when the wave hit us. It was amazing any of us made it back alive.

I thought of Gresham, Fane, Axton, Langley, and the other pirate that had been in the rowboat with Hook and I, and I wondered if they had been so lucky, if they were still alive. I thought about asking, but like everything else, my tongue felt heavy, and it was easier just to stay silent.

Hook weaved his way across the deck to the stern with me in his arms, waves of rain pelting us with each gust of wind, until we came to a door. He shifted my weight before opening the door and taking me inside and closing the door behind us.

A single lantern cast a pale yellow glow across the room, and everything that wasn't bathed in light cast a long dark shadow that slithered across the floor and climbed the walls. The entire room was made of a dark wood that seemed to gleam even in the weak light. Even the furniture was made of the same dark wood.

Hook set me down carefully on a large bed covered in blankets of various colors and material and lavish pillows that looked soft and welcoming.

Once Hook sat me down, he made his way over to a trunk that sat in the corner, yanked open the top and pulled out a stack of linens. Before I knew it, he was kneeling in front of me, soaking wet still, and throwing a linen over my head. I started to protest, but then he began frantically rubbing my head and I realized what he was doing.

"You're going to catch Death if we don't get you dry and warm," he said, his voice leaving no room for humor.

I nodded.

He continued to work at drying my hair, but his one hand was rough, pulling and scraping my scalp, so I willed myself to lift my heavy arms and do it myself. He gave a small smile and nodded in approval. "I'm glad to see you finally moving."

"It doesn't even feel like I _am_ moving," I said through numb lips. The words sounded funny in my ears, but if it sounded funny to Hook, he didn't show it.

"It's because you're numb from the cold, love. That'll pass soon enough." And he was right. Pins and needles were already beginning to blossom across my skin, and I knew that pretty soon I would be an aching mess. I decided to move the drying process along by padding at my arms and bare legs.

"I need to get out of this nightgown," I said, and Hook nodded.

"I have a few extra shirts. One of those will have to do until we can get you some clothes of your own." When I didn't say anything, Hook cleared his throat. "Holly." I looked up at him through wet lashes. "What I did tonight-"

"You mean kidnapping me?" I quipped, all of the emotions of the night's events beginning to flow again as I regained some feeling in my body.

"Aye," he said, running his hand through his wet hair. "It was necessary."

Necessary. I don't think that is the word _I_ would have used.

"Necessary," I said, the word feeling sour on my tongue.

"Aye."

"I don't see how ripping me from my home and my family in the middle of the night, threatening to kill a few innocent servant girls if I didn't stay quiet, and forcing me down the face of a cliff and into a tiny rowboat in the middle of a typhoon when I can't swim is _necessary._ I think-"

"Woah, woah, woah," Hook interrupted, holding up his hand to silence me. "What do you mean you can't swim?"

Judging by his furrowed brow and tone of his voice, I could tell that it was a serious question. I stopped drying my hair, bringing the damp linen to my lap and fiddling with a fraying seam. I suddenly felt very embarrassed and ducked my head.

"I never learned how to swim," I said sheepishly, the warm blush causing my cheeks to tingle.

"Unbelievable," Hook muttered, getting to his feet again.

My face flushed hot. "What?" I demanded as he returned to the chest and pulled out a dark shirt and matching trousers.

"That would have been a nice detail to share," he snapped, slamming the lid of the trunk shut and tossing the clothes to me.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I quipped as I caught them, rolling my eyes. "I didn't realize that I needed to share such an important detail during my _kidnapping!"_

"It would have been nice!" Hook snapped back. He was tense, the tendons in his neck visible as he took measured breaths through flaring nostrils. He paced back and forth for a while, then stopped, walked over to me, and snatched the linen from my hand before starting to dry his own hair.

"Why would you care if I drowned anyway?" I asked.

Hook quit drying his hair, his head snapping up so he could meet my gaze. "Excuse me?" he asked, incredulous, and I knew I had hit a nerve. When I didn't answer, he brought the linen down around his neck and stared at me with hard eyes, cocking his head to one side and taking slow steps towards me. My body screamed at me to scoot back on the bed, but I didn't. I sat up straight, my fingers gripping the edge of the bed, and kept my eyes locked with his.

"You really think I'd let you drown?" he asked, staring down at me.

"I don't see why you'd care," I stated, and I swear there was a twitch of pain that crossed his face. When I blinked, it had passed.

"You don't know a lot of things, love," he said. He smirked when my mouth dropped open in disbelief.

"I know plenty of things." I protested.

"You obviously don't if you think me kidnapping you is worse than Peter Pan kidnapping you. Now, I suggest you change into those there," he said, motioning at the shirt and trousers he had tossed at me, "And get some rest. You've had a hard night."

"What a gentleman."

"You know, it's rude for a lady of your rank to be so sarcastic."

I glared at him, but he only chuckled.

"Goodnight, love. Pleasant dreams and all that," he said with a lazy wave of his hand. Then, he crossed the room and opened the door. A cold gust of wind burst through the room, and the thundering patter of rain intensified. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he lingered for a moment before turning back to me. "Unless you want someone to keep you company and to help keep you warm." He winked.

I felt a knot in my stomach and a blush bloom across my face, but I tried to screw up my face in disgust.

"Fine," Hook smirked, "Have it your way." Then, he stepped back out on the deck with his men, shouting orders and shutting the door behind him.

When I was sure he wasn't going to barge back in, I stripped off my nightgown, peeling the soaked cotton off my skin and drying off before stepping into the clothes Hook had provided. They were much too large, but they were warm. The shirt could practically be a short dress. The sleeves hung all the way past my fingertips and the trousers hung low on my hips, threatening to fall down around my ankles if I wasn't careful.

Despite my better judgement, I pulled back the mountain of blankets and crawled into the bed. The pillows were soft under my head and the pile of blankets provided instant warmth for my bare feet and the rest of my body. I sighed happily and shivered once before the warmth began to settle into my bones.

I told myself it was safest to stay awake, that there was no telling what Hook or any of his men might do if they found me sleeping and unguarded, but there was a part of me that was sure that Hook wouldn't let anything happen to me. He hadn't so far.

In the end, exhaustion won, and pretty soon, my eyelids were drooping and the rock of the boat gently lulled me to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

"You can't hide from me, Holly!" Peter shouted at my back. I stole a glimpse over my shoulder as I ran, but Peter was nowhere in sight.

But he was close. I could feel it as the hair on the back of my neck and arms stood on end.

I don't know how long I had been running from him, but it felt like hours. My lungs burned in protest and my calves felt tight. I had stopped feeling my feet ages ago; the rocks, vines, and sticks of the uneven jungle terrain ripped the bottoms of my feet to shreds as I tried to stay one step ahead of _him._

Even at night, the jungle was muggy, the humidity soaking the shirt and trousers Hook had given me. My hair stuck to the back of my neck and to the sides of my face. I could taste the salty tang of sweat on my upper lip, but I tried to ignore it and tried to focus on my breathing which was becoming erratic and uneven, causing my lungs to burn even more.

Without much thought, I darted to the right, through a cluster of branches that tore at my cheeks and pulled at my hair. I hoped that changing direction sporadically would help throw Peter and any Lost Boys off my trail, but I knew in the back of my mind that they knew this entire island like the back of their hands, and they could probably track me anywhere.

The thought only made me run harder.

"Alright, Holly, that's quite enough."

 _No!_

But it was too late. I couldn't stop my feet fast enough, I couldn't change direction quickly enough, and I ran right into Peter's outstretched arms.

"Let go of me!" I screamed, twisting and turning as I tried to get loose.

Peter chuckled darkly. "I don't think so," he whispered into my ear, his breath hot as it fanned against my cheek. He held me tight, his chest pressed against my back as I continued to struggle. "No, I think I'm going to keep you close from here on out." Then, he pressed his lips to the area right behind my ear and I shuddered, a whimper escaping my lips.

There was a rustling in the foliage all around us, and I tensed. Peter, however, seemed almost bored.

"Come on out, boys!" he shouted, his chest buzzing against my shoulder blades. "She's done running."

One by one, Lost Boys stepped into view, their eyes blazing with a feral hunger that made my stomach lurch. They all smirked at me, a quarry caught in a net that couldn't be escaped.

"She didn't put up much of a chase," a burly boy sneered as he flung his club up and over his shoulder. Even in the dark, I could see the permanent stain of blood that coated it, and the acidic taste of bile rose in my mouth at the thought of some poor boy's head meeting the brunt force of the club.

"She didn't even get creative," another almost whined, and many of the boys nodded and mumbled in agreement. "She left behind a trail that any amateur could follow!"

"That's enough." Peter stated, and although he was calm, the authority in his voice didn't go unnoticed. The mumbling stopped and everyone was silent, watching Peter and I and waiting for their leader's next command. "She'll learn," he said, grazing the back of his knuckles carefully down the side of my face. I jerked away, the affectionate gesture setting off every alarm in my body.

And then the same hand was tangled in my hair, yanking my head back painfully so I was forced to look at him. I let out a yelp, tears rising in my eyes as my scalp felt like it would tear.

"You're going to learn how to play all of our little games," Peter hissed, the darkness in his eyes swirling with the emerald green. "And you're going to learn to play them _right._ And if you _don't,"_ Peter hissed in my ear, _"_ I'll make sure your brother suffers until you do." I felt my stomach drop as the Lost Boys all snickered. Then, Peter leaned in close, his lips on my ear as he voice dropped so low that only I could hear. "And if you _ever_ try to escape again, I will make sure that you regret it. Do you understand?" I was in no position to argue, so I nodded. I could feel the smile that spread across his lips. "Good. Now, about your punishment…"

And then he slid his blade over the area where my neck and shoulder met, sending a trail of fire across my skin.

I awoke with a jolt, my arms and legs flailing as I tried to fight off Peter, the Lost Boy's snickering still echoing in my ears. The tangle of blankets around my legs and the room of dark wood slowly calmed my rampaging heart.

It was a dream. A nightmare.

The wood seemed to groan as the ship rocked gently. Sunlight poured into the room through the window that covered the back of the quarters, and there wasn't a cloud in sight. The storm had cleared up, no monster waves as far as the eye could see.

I brought my hand up and ghosted my fingers over the area where Peter had cut me in my dream, only to find unbroken skin covered in goosebumps. I let out a shaky sigh and pressed the heel of my hands into my eyes until I saw bursts of color in the black.

A rap on the door caused me to gasp and startle before I felt a lump form in my throat that threatened to choke me. Tears sprung to my eyes and I wiped at them, the frustrations of the last fortnight crashing into me much like the waves did on the cliff.

I watched through blurry eyes as Hook stepped into the room, closing the door gently behind him without looking up at me. I wiped away another wave of tears just in time to see him turn on his heel, see me, and startle.

"You're awake," he said, sounding relieved. A small smile appeared at the corners of his lips, but it vanished when I took in a shaky breath. He frowned. "Are you alright?"

I didn't trust my voice, so I nodded. He stared at me, one eyebrow arched in disbelief and not buying my lack of an answer. I looked down at my slightly trembling hands and curled them into the blanket, hoping he wouldn't notice.

"Nightmare," I croaked, not meeting his gaze. Hook nodded, and I felt anger lick at my insides. He didn't understand the terror I had just experienced, how real it had all felt.

"You gave me quite the scare," Hook admitted as he crossed the room. The mattress sank under his weight as he sat only a few feet from me.

"What do you mean?" I asked, curious. My voice sounded thick and scratchy and I tried to clear it several times.

A corner of Hook's mouth turned up and his eyes flashed with something I could only assume was pity before he reached for his belt and untied a pouch that hung there. He put the cork between his teeth and pulled, a tiny _pop!_ sounding as he pulled it free. He held the pouch out to me and waited. When I hesitated, he rolled his eyes. "It's water," he said around the cork.

At the mention of water my mouth seemed to go completely dry. I grabbed the pouch and brought it to my lips and drank. The water was tepid and tasted as though it had been sitting in the pouch for weeks, but it coated my dry mouth and my itchy throat and helped extinguish the burning that seemed to dwell at the base of my throat.

I began to take larger gulps, tilting the pouch back in order to get every drop of water. Small dribbles escaped the corners of my mouth, dripping onto the shirt I was wearing, but I didn't care.

When I was finished, I took in a deep breath and sighed happily.

"Feel better?" Hook asked, looking at me with a spark of amusement in his eyes. I could tell he was trying not to chuckle by the way he pushed his lips together, and I felt myself burn hot with embarrassment. I nodded sheepishly, dabbing at the water at the corners of my mouth with the back of my sleeve.

As Hook took the now empty pouch back and recorked it, I studied him. He looked exhausted, and I guessed that he didn't get to sleep last night because of the storm. Dark bags hung under each of his eyes and his hair was disheveled. He still wore the same clothes that he had all the time he had been in the dungeons, and everything except for his leather coat was wrinkled from the rain. The smell of sweat, dirt, and ocean spray radiated off of him.

"How did I scare you?" I asked, my voice sounding closer to normal.

Hook glanced at me before turning his attention back to tying the pouch to his belt. "I wasn't sure your fever was going to break," he said giving the pouch a couple of tugs before deeming his knot sufficient.

"My… fever?" I asked, confused. I hadn't had a fever when I fell asleep last night.

Hook studied me for a moment, his thick brows drawn together. "Aye," he said slowly, gauging my facial expressions. "The night of the storm, after you fell asleep, you-"

"You mean last night," I corrected him, and I could tell he was confused. His brows knitted together even further and he opened his mouth once, closed it, and then opened it again.

"Holly, the storm happened the night before last." I felt nervous as he leaned towards me, staring at me intently. "Lass, you've been out cold for thirty-two hours running a high fever."

"H-how? I don't… I don't remember…"

"It _was_ cold that night," Hook explained, and I could feel it grind against my nerves. Of _course_ it was cold that night. It was spring, and it had been pouring rain. It definitely wasn't a warm, summer shower. And the sea was never warm, and I had been floating in it for who knows how long before… What? I couldn't remember. "And you weren't exactly dressed for the occasion." Hook chuckled, finding himself funny. I didn't.

"Oh yes," I hissed, glaring at Hook, "Laugh it up. Me catching Death must have been so amusing to you and your crew of mongrels."

Hook's grin disappeared, and I swelled with pride. He deserved to feel bad.

"It was no laughing matter, Holly."

"I'm sure." The sarcasm practically dripped from my words. Hook bristled. He opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand. "I don't want to hear anything you have to say."

"Too bad," he retorted, his blue eyes blazing. I dropped my hand and crossed my arms over my chest, determined to ignore anything that was about to come out of his mouth. "When that rowboat capsized, I lost trace of everyone. The Jolly Roger wasn't far, so I did the only thing I could do and swam to her."

"Leaving the rest of us for dead," I snapped.

"A captain _never_ abandons his crew," he said, his voice dangerously low. "When they pulled me aboard, everyone was accounted for. Except you." I didn't say anything, didn't encourage him to continue, and it seemed to deter him slightly. He huffed, frustrated, and ran his fingers through his hair. "So I dove back in after you."

I hadn't been expecting _that._

"You what?" I asked, feeling more than a bit breathless. My voice sounded small in my ears, my disbelief evident.

Hook didn't look at me. He was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he became incredibly interested in a spot on the wall across the room.

"When no one knew where you were, when no one brought you back with them, I dove back in without a second thought. I'm surprised I even found you, but I did. You were floating just below the surface, already unconscious, but I grabbed you anyway. The boys yanked us back up and after I laid you down, I started pushing on your back, trying to get you to spit up all the water you had breathed in." Hook bowed his head. "After a while, everyone told me to give up, that there was no bringing you back, that you were long gone, but I gave one final push anyway."

My heart hammered as I listened, my eyes glued to my hands, which had gone white from gripping the blankets so tightly.

"And then you spit up the water, coughing and sputtering and gasping for air, and I swear I could have kissed you."

I flushed crimson, my heartbeat loud as a drum in my ears, and I was thankful that Hook didn't look up. We sat in a thick silence for what felt like forever, Hook's eyes never leaving the spot on the wall and my hands cramping from the force of gripping the sheets.

"Why?"

Hook glanced over at me. "Why what?"

"Why did you save me?" I asked as I felt anger begin to boil in my gut. My voice trembled slightly as I tried to rein in my anger, but it didn't go unnoticed by Hook. He turned to face me, sitting up straight as he cocked his head to the side, curious.

"I'm not the monster you think I am, Holly," he said, and I felt my anger rupture.

"Why didn't you just let me drown?" I asked, my voice rising. He flinched as if I had slapped him. I knew it would take him only a moment to recover, so I hurried on. "Let me guess: Because you need me alive in order to sell me back to my father. Am I close?" I prodded and Hook's shoulders stiffened.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he said between gritted teeth. His stare made me shrink back inwardly, but I couldn't back down. I couldn't let him get the best of me. Not now.

"You're right," I agreed, and he blinked in confusion at my sudden change of attitude. "I couldn't possibly understand the thought process of a lying, cheating-"

Hook's hand flashed out so fast I didn't have time to react. His fingers tangled in the front of my shirt before he yanked me forward, our noses almost brushing as he glared at me. I gripped at his shoulders for balance, only to realize that he had pulled me into his lap. I practically straddled him. I felt my entire body flush hot, and it was hard to breathe.

"I've had quite enough of your attitude," Hook stated calmly. "Now, I'm only going to explain this to you once, so I suggest you listen."

It was impossible to keep eye contact. My stomach was tying itself into impossible knots and no matter how much of a deep breath I took, it was as though my lungs couldn't get enough air.

The cold metal of his hook slid beneath my chin, making me look at him. He didn't smile, so I was sure that he didn't realize my embarrassment of straddling him.

"I am the captain of this ship, which means I'm in charge. And I don't take kindly to people who think they're so much better than me giving me lip, especially when I'm the one sticking my neck out to protect them." I finally produced a glare, and he smirked for a moment before his stern face returned. "I know you think I'm some monster, but trust me, love, when I tell you that Pan is much, _much_ worse."

I shivered as images from my dream flashed before my eyes, my fingers digging into Hook's shoulders. I knew that it was just a nightmare, but there was something about the way the dream _felt._ Like in some strange, unexplainable way that it _was_ real. At least, to an extent.

"I know these… conditions aren't exactly ideal," Hook said, his voice holding a stern note of sincerity as his fingers stayed tangled in the front of my shirt, "But, like you, I hope they aren't permanent. So, while you're here, you're going to behave and make this as painless as possible for me and my crew. Got it?"

"And if I don't?" I asked, my voice cold.

Hook chuckled, the velvety sound causing me to shift uncomfortably in his lap as his hot breath fanned across my lips.

A loud rap on the door caused us both to jump, and even as the door swung open, Hook didn't let go of me. His head swiveled around as a short, round man waddled into the room.

"Captain, the men request orders regarding- Oh!" The man had finally looked up to find me straddling Hook, our faces inches apart, with his hand tangled in my shirt, and he seemed as embarrassed as I was. His round face flushed a rosy pink as he ducked his head and apologized profusely for "interrupting".

"Trust me, Smee," Hook assured the man with a cocky smile, "You didn't interrupt anything." Then, he let go of my shirt and pushed me backwards onto the bed. I yelped, grabbing handfuls of empty air before landing with a huff amongst the many pillows and pile of sheets. Hook chuckled and stood, facing the short man. "I was just telling Holly here the rules of this ship and how she should behave if she knows what's good for her." He glanced over his shoulder at me and winked. "Isn't that right, Holly love?"

I glared daggers at his back as he turned his attention back to Smee, who kept nervously pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, but no matter how many times he did so, they always slid back down to the end of the bulbous tip.

"O-Of course, Captain," Smee said standing a little straighter.

"So, what is it that the boys need?" Hook inquired, placing his hand and his hook on his hips.

"They request orders on whether or not to drop anchor in Starryview, Sir. She's just off the horizon and some of the men are a little homesick- Oh!" Smee's hands clapped over his mouth as he flushed a deeper pink. "Don't tell them I told you! I wasn't supposed to say that part!"

 _Starryview?_ I thought. I had never heard of such a place.

Hook chuckled again and slapped Smee on the shoulder, shaking his head. "Oh, Smee…" His voice trailed off, and Smee joined in Hook's chuckling, although it sounded a bit nervous.

It was strange watching Hook interact with Smee in such a friendly way. I had imagined that he would be the barking type of captain, one that his men feared instead of chuckled with. The night he and the others had helped kidnap me, that was how he seemed: in charge and no nonsense. As I sat up, I couldn't help but wonder if there was more to Hook than the sarcastic, bickering captain that only seemed to come out when I was around.

"Tell the boys to set a course for Starryview." Hook ordered and Smee instantly stood at attention, but he couldn't hide his relieved smile. "Tell them we'll be home within the hour."

Smee beamed. "Aye aye, Captain!" And then he was gone, back on deck and shouting the news to the crew. Cheers erupted amongst the men, and I saw Hook swell, with happiness or pride or relief, I couldn't tell.

 _Home._ My chest constricted painfully at the thought.

 _I wish I could be home._


	11. Chapter 11

_They're mad_ , I thought as I stared out at the horizon. _Every last one of them. Mad._

I had been watching the horizon for Starryview for the past half hour, but I still couldn't see the island that the men all claimed to be right in front of my face.

I wanted to turn around, to take my eyes off the horizon long enough to ask someone where in the world this island was, but if my eyes strayed away from the horizon for too long, my knees would go weak and my stomach would curl in on itself. My head would spin and my empty stomach threatened to spill whatever it could over the ship's edge.

"You won't be able to see it," came Hook's smooth voice. I turned to look, a smug look plastered on his face, and instantly regretted it. The ship tilted dangerously and the sky behind Hook's head seemed to tilt the other way. I gripped the railing tightly, the worn wood scraping against my fingers and my palms as I tried to breathe in deeply through my nose and out through my mouth. The smell of fish and sea salt assaulted my nose and rested in the back of my throat, causing me to gag.

"Why… can't… I see it?" I asked in between deep breaths.

Hook chuckled, the noise floating over the deck, and I saw a few men out of the corner of my eyes stop to look at me.

"The lass don't have her sea legs," a familiar voice crowed before he barked a laugh. I glanced to find Gresham with his hands wrapped around his middle as he doubled over laughing. Others joined him, and I felt my face get hot.

Part of me wished _he_ would have drowned.

"That's enough, boys," Hook stated after a moment, and the small crowd dispersed, their snickers not falling on deaf ears. Then, he came to stand next to me, leaning his elbows on the railing next to my hands. I didn't look at him because I was sure if I did that the world would tilt so far that I would stumble. "Just take deep breaths and watch the line of the horizon. It helps keep everything from tilting." His voice was gentle yet instructive, but it wasn't something I didn't already know.

I did it anyway so he'd stop talking, but my silence didn't deter him.

"You can't see the island," Hook explained as if it was a simple concept, "Because you've never been on the island."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, because that makes so much sense."

"No need to be snarky," Hook said, but I could hear the smile in his voice. "You're not the first one who can't see the island, and you probably won't be the last."

"I've never heard of an island that can't be seen floating in the middle of the ocean," I said as my stomach began to settle and the deck felt solid beneath my feet.

"This island's special." The way he said it, as if he was speaking of a fond friend, made me glance his way. He didn't look at me, just stared out to where the island supposedly was. A small smile ghosted his lips as his azure eyes twinkled in the sun.

"What makes it so special?" I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me.

He didn't speak right away. He kept his eyes out on the horizon and took deep, even breaths, his chest expanding as far as it could go before falling again. If I was being honest, there was something calming in the way he leaned so casually against the side of the ship, his eyes dancing like the waves that lapped at the boat below. He was at peace out on the ocean. It was where he belonged.

He was home.

The familiar ache in my chest rose up again, and I ground my teeth together to keep from crying.

"She does," Hook explained, his voice sounding far away.

"She?" I asked, my eyebrows inching up my forehead. Hook nodded, his eyes never leaving the sea. "What's her name?"

"Tinkerbelle, but she always insisted we call her Tink."

I nodded and a silence settled between us, and even though I felt the need to ask more, to learn more about this Tink, it seemed that Hook was done speaking on the subject.

"Captain! We're about to pass through the veil!"

I craned my neck up to find the source of the voice, only to find Fane high up in the crow's nest. When I glanced back to Hook, he was already pushing himself off the railing of the ship and shouting orders.

"Get ready, lads," Hook ordered, and the men seemed to know exactly what that meant. Some of them held tightly to the sides of the ship while others braced themselves against the base of the mast. They all seemed to be bracing for something _big_.

"What's going on?" I asked, and Hook turned to look at me. He smiled and seemed completely unconcerned with his orders for his crew to hold on tight.

"The ride through the veil can get a bit bumpy," he explained as he made his way back to my side and gripped the side of the ship. I gripped the railing tighter, unsure of what he meant, but not wanting to be thrown overboard if I was unprepared.

I opened my mouth to ask him what the veil was when all of a sudden, the entire ship seemed to lurch. The force threw me against the railing, my stomach taking most of the hit and knocking the wind out of me as I tried to keep my feet on the deck and tried to keep myself from falling head first into the ocean below.

The ship lurched again, but this time I couldn't hold on. I felt the wood scrape against my fingers as I flew back, the back of my head meeting the wood of the railing on the other side of the ship. I thought I heard Hook shout my name, but it became muffled as I fought to stay conscious. The edges of my vision went black and each time I blinked I saw bright flashes of light. My head felt heavy on my shoulders as I tried to keep it up right.

"Holly." came a voice that wasn't Hook's. The voice was light and seemed to float in the air around me. I blinked hard and tried to lift my head, but it still felt too heavy. "Holly." the voice said again, but it was closer this time.

I felt two soft hands cradle my face before lifting my head up for me, and I was surprised at what I saw.

I stared up into two piercing hazel eyes, a small button nose, and the thin pale lips of a girl who didn't look much older than me. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, but a few light curls hung down around her sharp jaw and cheekbones.

I tried to focus on her, but her edges seemed to blur and fade the harder I tried.

"Just relax," she said as she ran her thumbs over my cheeks. "You hit your head pretty good."

"I'll say," I grumbled and she laughed. The sound reminded me of bells chiming. "Who are you?" I asked. I was sure that there wasn't another girl on the ship besides myself, yet here she was. I tried to get comfortable and immediately regretted it when a sharp pain shot down my neck. I ground my teeth together to keep from screaming.

The girl smiled. "I'm an old friend of Hook's. I'm also what makes this island- how did he put it…?" She scrunched her nose and squinted as she thought. "Special."

"You're Tinkerbelle?" I asked, feeling a little breathless. The girl gave me a small smile and nodded.

"Please, call me Tink."

 _She insisted we call her Tink._ Hook's voice rang in my mind.

I felt a pang in my gut as I looked up at Tinkerbelle. She was so beautiful and seemed so friendly. It was no wonder Hook was fond of her.

"Holly!" Hook's voice cut through the air and I startled. Tinkerbelle seemed to blink out like a flame before reappearing again, but this time she was much less solid. She smiled at me again, and I felt her thumbs brush over my cheeks again, but this time they felt like feathers tickling my skin.

What was going on? People didn't fade and flicker.

"It was nice to meet you, Holly," Tinkerbelle interrupted my thoughts as she began to flicker out again. "I have a feeling we'll meet again soon."

And then she was gone.


	12. Chapter 12

"Holly!"

Another hand cupped my cheek where Tinkerbelle's hand had been, but it felt much different. Rough callouses scraped against my left cheek while a smooth cold caressed my right cheek.

A shadow loomed in front of me, the sun behind it looking much like a halo. I blinked several times before everything started feeling solid again and the voice didn't sound so far away.

Before I knew it, I was staring up at Hook, his dark brows knitted together and his mouth turned down in a frown. He relaxed when I groaned and pushed his hands away.

"That's a girl," he said with a smile before patting my knee. "How's the head?"

Slowly, I reached up and gingerly touched the spot on the back of my head that was throbbing. There was a small bump, but no broken skin and no blood. I let out a shaky sigh of relief.

"What do you care?" I groaned, and Hook's smile widened as shook his head. I felt myself bristle, but I didn't have it in me to put up a fight.

"That's my girl," he said as he stood, and I felt a flutter in my chest. He held out a hand for me. I hesitated a moment, but then took it and he dragged me to my feet. A wave of dizziness hit me, but it simmered down before completely disappearing without incident. "We're here."

"Here?" I asked, confused. Then, I remembered the island and the veil and the boat lurching before sending me flying.

And Tinkerbelle.

"Starryview," Hook reminded me, but I was distracted. I scanned the deck of the ship, but I didn't see any sign of Tinkerbelle. I even went so far as to crane my head up to the crow's nest, but it stood empty against the clear sky.

Each of Hook's men began to exit the ship down a wooden ramp and onto a large dock below, a small bag slung over their shoulders that I could only assume held their few personal belongings. None of them seemed concerned about what had just happened and who had just been on the ship a few moments ago.

"Holly? You alright?" I turned and met Hook's concerned gaze. He took a step towards me, his hand outstretched. "Maybe we should have someone take a look at your head." I shook my head, still a bit dazed as I searched for Tinkerbelle.

"No," I breathed, and took a step back. Something like disappointment flashed across Hook's face before his hand dropped to his side. "I-I'm fine. I just…" I rubbed my forehead, which had also started to throb slightly. "I'm just hungry and still feel a little sea sick."

It was a lie, yes, but if I had hit my head as hard as the bump on the back of my head told me I did, then maybe seeing Tinkerbelle was all just an illusion.

 _But how does one imagine a person they've never met?_ I argued with myself. _How does one create a face they've never seen or a voice they've never heard?_

"You're sure?" Hook prodded, not sounding convinced as he took another step towards me, keeping his eyes on mine the entire time. I felt my heart speed up in my chest and felt what little breath I had flee. Not trusting my words, I nodded. "Well, then let's get you off this ship and get something in your gut, yeah?" Again, I nodded.

Hook guided me off the ship, down the ramp, and onto the dock below, his hook resting in the small of my back the entire way, but I wasn't paying attention to Hook. I was paying attention to the island.

The island wasn't massive, not by any means, but it was large enough that I wondered how in the world it could be kept hidden behind a sort of magical veil.

Gentle waves licked at the posts holding up the dock and lapped up onto the beach where the dock finally met the sand. The white sand was almost blinding, like tiny diamonds reflecting the afternoon sun.

At the edge of the beach, where the sand disappeared and gave way to what looked like a cobblestone street, there sat multiple stone buildings, bleached white from the sun with shutters that were caked with dry salt.

The sand was warm in between my toes as we made our way towards the town, and it was then that I realized I still wasn't wearing any shoes.

Men, women, and children all filled the small streets. A small group of men sat around a small wooden table just outside of what looked like an inn, playing a game that included dice and cards. A group of younger boys darted out from behind an empty cart and began to chase each other down an alleyway, swinging sticks that they seemed to be using as swords. They nearly plowed over a little girl at the mouth of the ally, but she must have evaded them a thousand times before because as I opened my mouth to warn her, she sidestepped every one of them, hardly looking up from the picture book she was carrying.

I smiled, impressed.

Two women made their way down the road with a basket full of linen for each of them. They had their heads ducked together and every once in a while, they would break out in a fit of laughter.

I felt myself flush in embarrassment when I noticed that all the women seemed to be wearing dresses. I was going to stick out like a sore thumb in Hook's shirt and trousers.

I quickly ran my fingers through my hair in an attempt to clear up any knots and to make myself look a bit more presentable, but my fingers always got stuck somewhere between my straw-stiff, sea salt strewn hair. I sighed in defeat before accepting that I probably looked ridiculous.

But either the townspeople didn't notice me or they didn't care that I looked like a drowned rat in pirate's clothes because only a few gave me curious looks as Hook and I passed, if they looked to us at all. A few of the men nodded at Hook as he passed, and he returned the gesture.

It was the young women that kept passing us on the road that seemed keen on getting his attention.

"Hello, Captain," one girl flirted as she batted her long eyelashes. Her dress was a bit low cut in the front, and it was obvious that she had been blessed in womanhood because most of her was falling out of the top of her dress. I felt my eyes go wide as she seemed to try and push her chest out further, and I waited in horror for her buttons to finally give way and expose herself to not only Hook and I, but to everyone else on the street.

Hook hardly slowed as he bowed his head. "Marie."

"Are you on your way to the pub?" Marie asked, twirling a dark curl around her finger. She stepped in front of Hook, blocking his way up the road. He almost ran into her, making her giggle.

Hook smiled at the girl and nodded. "Aye. It's been a long couple of weeks and I fancy myself a drink and a hot meal. Not to mention that I need to get Holly here fed." Hook looked at me and smiled. "Right, love?"

Marie stiffened at Hook's pet name before her dark eyes slid over to me. She scanned me from my head to my toes before her mouth quirked up in one corner.

"Where'd you find this poor dear?" she asked, her voice anything but concerned for my well-being. "She looks absolutely awful."

"Mystasia," Hook stated as if she hadn't just insulted me, and one of Marie's eyebrows shot up.

"Fancy place," Marie finally dismissed with only a glance my way before she turned back to Hook, a pout pursing her lips. "It's so kind of you to help her out," she cooed, carding her fingers through his mussed hair, "but promise me you won't waste too much time with her. I've missed you terribly these past few weeks and we should… catch up." She said the last words in a sultry voice that made me feel dirty just listening in to their conversation. I crossed my arms and shifted, and Hook seemed to take my hint.

He gave Marie his best smile before nodding. "It's a date."

A possessive smile spread across Marie's lips before she twiddled her fingers at us and strutted away, making sure to give her hips extra swing. I rolled my eyes.

"What?" Hook asked, sounding defensive as he turned back to me, a smile stretching his lips. It faltered when he looked at me.

"Nothing." The smell of smoked fish filled my nostrils and I inhaled deeply, the grumble in my stomach becoming insistent. "Can we please just go?"

Hook studied me a moment as people went about their business around us. A smirk appeared as he arched an eyebrow at me. "Does her majesty not like being swept under the rug by someone such as Marie?"

"She obviously didn't know who I was," I remarked, holding my chin high.

"Oh, trust me, love. She did. Marie is smarter than she lets on; doesn't believe she needs to be smart as long as she's pretty, but she knows you're a bit out of your jurisdiction." I bristled, and Hook noticed. "Starryview doesn't follow your father or recognize him as their king. Get used to it. It's a battle you'll lose every time." Before I could argue, he started back up the street, leaving me no choice but to follow him.

"Then who's in charge?" I asked as I caught up to him.

"No one."

"No one?" I repeated and Hook nodded.

"If something needs to be decided, the entire town meets and talks through whatever issue there is at hand. They listen to everyone that wants to speak and then they vote. The popular vote obviously wins and then everyone goes about their business."

"Sounds tedious," I commented and Hook chuckled, but he didn't say anything more.

We continued through the little town, taking a few turns here and there. It seemed that the town was folded in on itself several times, streets leading back to the same places or to places that looked pretty much the same. It made the town seem bigger and easier to get lost in. Finally, the pub came into view.

It wasn't a building that one could miss. The large wooden sign that hung above the door read "LeRoy's Pub" in big block letters, and beneath the writing was the carving of a pint with ale overflowing into a puddle underneath it. The sign was old. The paint on the letters had long since peeled away, leaving it bare and the wood had long ago begun to rot on the hinges. One of these days, the sign would probably fall on some poor patrons' head.

Laughter, cheers, and out of tune music poured out from the open windows and the door every time someone entered or left, and with each step that brought us closer to the pub's door, I could feel my feet get heavier and heavier, my heart racing a little faster.

I was in way over my head. I had never been in a pub before and I had never had any urge to go inside one either. And with the growing volume of the music and chatter, I wasn't entirely sure it was where I should be. I longed for the dining hall back home, longed for a seat next to my father as we ate and laughed in the quiet of the vast hall.

I wondered how my father was. I wondered how he was handling my kidnapping and whether or not he was devising a plan to get me back or whether or not he would just pay Hook the ransom he wanted and skip all the inconvenience.

But as much as I hated to admit it, if I wasn't in Hook's possession, I would be in Pan's, and _that_ was something I absolutely did _not_ want.

We had almost reached the door of the pub when it flew open, the wooden plank of a door crashing into the outer wall of the pub with so much force that I heard a sharp _crack._ I jumped, taking an unconscious step towards Hook, who then gently pulled me behind him.

"C'mon, Nora! I haven't been drinking _that_ much!"

I peeked around Hook as a tiny woman, wider than she was tall, dragged a burly man twice her size out of the pub by his ear. She didn't let go until they were outside the pub, only to plant her hands firmly on her hips as she glared up at the man.

"You've had more than enough, Dane. Now, I suggest you go home and drink some tea before you have to be back for your dinner shift tonight. I don't need you drunk when you're working in the kitchen. We can't have you losing anymore fingers." Her tone left no room for arguing, but the man didn't seem keen to argue anyway. He grunted an agreement before placing a cap on his head and heading off down the road, back towards the beach. Sure enough, he was missing a finger on his left hand. It didn't go unnoticed that he swerved a bit as he walked, and the woman only sighed and shook her head.

"You know, Nora," Hook said and the woman's eyes snapped over to us, "He'll probably come back just as drunk. He's got quite a few bottles hidden in that hut of his."

It was hard to read the woman's face, but it seemed to me that she couldn't believe Hook had spoken up. She almost seemed irritated.

She slowly turned so she was facing Hook, her arms crossed over her chest as she seemed to puff up like a bird ruffling its feathers. She wore a worn out bandana that at one time must have been blue. Frizzy brown hair peeked out from the back, and a few frizzed curls hung around her freckled face. Chocolate brown eyes gleamed as they stared down Hook.

"And where the bloody hell have _you_ been these past few weeks, hm?"

Hook held up his hand and hook as if he was surrendering and took a small step towards the woman. "You're angry," he stated and I would have rolled my eyes if I wasn't afraid I was going to miss something. Hook was a charmer, but I had a feeling this woman knew better than to fall for it.

"You and that crew of yours just take off in the middle of the night one night, didn't tell anyone where you were going or what you were doing, and then we don't hear anything for _days!_ Of course I'm angry!" Her voice grew shrill with every word, her anger spreading up her neck and over her cheeks in a red blanket.

"I didn't have time to explain," Hook explained calmly, taking another cautious step towards the stout woman. She huffed, her hands finding her hips again as she glared at Hook.

"There is _always_ time to discuss your traveling plans," she insisted, but Hook only shook his head.

"No, Nora, there wasn't. Time was of the essence, and I needed every moment that I could get."

Nora rolled her eyes. "What could be so important as to-"

Nora didn't get to finish her question because Hook had pivoted on his heel, grabbed my hand, and drug me into Nora's view.

"Nora, this is-"

"I know who she is." The woman hissed.

Hook's hand slid from mine and rested in the small of my back. I ducked my head, embarrassed by the way I must look to this woman, and shuffled on the uneven cobblestone. I curled my toes in an attempt to hide them beneath the hem of the long trousers, but it was no use. It was then that I decided that I might as well try to be polite since it might be the only way to make a good impression since my physical appearance was far from appealing.

 _And maybe she can help get me home._ The thought hardened my resolve.

I lifted my head and gave Nora a shy smile. "Hello."

Her eyes met mine and she smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Hello, dear," she said in a cheery tone. When her eyes flitted back to Hook again, she was shaking her head. "Are you mad?" she practically shouted. I felt myself flinch.

"Nora, please," Hook's tone sounded more like a warning than a request, "Just hear me out."

Nora looked like a tea kettle that was getting ready to whistle. Her face had flushed crimson and she sputtered as she tried to find a response.

"Hear you out?" she asked incredulous. Hook nodded. "Oh, I'll hear you out." Hook let go of a breath, his shoulders sagging a little in relief. "I'll hear you out after you answer one question."

Hook's shoulders stiffened again as one eyebrow shot up. "What question is that, Nora?"

Nora's eyes drifted to me for a moment, just long enough for her to scan me from head to toe. And even though she hadn't yet asked her question, there was a look in her eyes that told me she already had the answer.

She took a deep breath through her nose and held it a moment before letting it go again. Hook shuffled from one foot to the other, his eyes flicking between Nora and I, and I wondered how much longer Nora could be silent before Hook finally shook it out of her.

"Did her father agree to this?" Nora finally asked, nodding towards me.

Hook's tongue darted over his lips in an attempt to buy himself time, but he didn't have time to answer. A laugh that bordered on hysterical bubbled over my lips and it seemed to be all the answer that Nora needed. She muttered a string of curses that made my head spin before she finally turned a dangerous glare on Hook.

"Thomas, you _promised!"_

Thomas?

"She wasn't safe there, Nora," Hook jumped to his defense as he took a step towards her. He pointed his hook back towards me as he continued. "Tink was right. If I hadn't taken her, Pan would have gotten to her!"

Nora pressed her fingers to her temple and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes for a moment and seemed to gather her thoughts.

"I know what you're going to say," Hook said, his voice sounding a bit hurt, "But she wasn't wrong."

Nora opened her eyes and sighed, looking tired as her shoulders sagged slightly. "Thomas, you can't keep doing this."

Hook stiffened. "But she wasn't wrong!" he repeated, his temper starting to slip. "How much more evidence do you need?" he demanded, and I wondered what in the world was going on.

They continued their bickering. Nora kept repeating that he promised and that he needed to stop, and Hook kept repeating that it was what he had to do to keep me safe from Pan, that Tink wasn't wrong. Anger boiled in me at that. It was a lie. He was blatantly lying to this woman about my kidnapping.

It surprised me that their argument wasn't drawing a crowd or even some attention. Some of those that passed glanced up, questions written all over their faces, but all of them continued on their way when Nora snapped at them to keep walking. By the way people ducked their heads and kept walking, it was obvious that this arguing between Nora and Hook wasn't something new.

"So tell me, Thomas," Nora pointed a stubby finger my way, "When does she get to go home?" Hook's silence caused her to scowl and swear again. "Answer me, Thomas!"

"I don't get to go home," I answered for him, my anger fueling the little courage I had. Both Hook and Nora looked at me, Nora's attention on me as Hook seemed to beg with his eyes for me not to tell.

 _Good,_ I thought. _Let him squirm._

"What did you say, dear?" Nora asked in her overly cheery voice, her fake smile returning to her face. I'm sure she was trying to make me feel comfortable, but the entire look was a bit unsettling.

Hook tried to open his mouth to say something else, to take the attention off of me, but Nora only curled her stubbly fingers into a fist and drove it into his solar plexus, causing Hook to double over and gasp for air. His swearing was just as bad as Nora's.

"I said that I don't get to go home."

"And why's that, dear?" I stole a glance at Hook still trying to recover from Nora's punch and felt my anger with him swell. Nora must have taken my moment of silence as hesitation because she said, "Don't worry about him, dear. He knows he's in enough trouble. He won't interrupt you again."

"I don't get to go home until my father pays Hook's ransom." The words rushed out of me, and it seemed that all my anger rushed out with it, leaving nothing but homesickness in the pit of my still-empty stomach.

Nora smiled at me before turning back on Hook and her smile completely disappeared. She seized him by the front of his leather coat and shook him.

"Ransom, Thomas? Ransom?" She was shrieking. "Are you out of your mind?"

Hook drew himself upright, still taking deep breaths as he rubbed the spot where Nora had punched him. "I had to, Nora," Hook said, his voice dangerously low and his azure eyes blazing. He pried Nora's fingers off of him one by one before he whirled on me, making me take a step back. "And maybe you don't understand it, you ungrateful brat, but if your father hadn't taken my offer and I had just left it at that, you would have been wishing he would have. You have _no idea_ what Pan would do to a girl like you."

He said each word with such confidence that it was obvious he was telling the truth, but their honesty still stung. I wrapped my arms around my middle and tried to keep my chin up, my eyes locked with Hook, but his look was too intense and I dropped my gaze.

All was quiet for a moment before I heard Hook sigh and then a pair of boots walking away.

"Thomas, where are you going?" Nora shouted. I looked up to see Hook making his way farther up the road. By the way Nora huffed, she wasn't done with him yet.

He hardly turned his head as he shouted back, "I need some time alone." Then, he turned a corner and was gone.

"Well." Nora said with a sigh after a long stretch of silence. When I looked up, her hands were planted on her hips once more. "Are you hungry, dear?"

I tucked a stiff strand of hair behind my ear and nodded, and Nora smiled, but this smile reached her eyes, the twinkle friendly and welcoming as she waddled over to me and put her hand in the small of my back.

"Let's get you fed then." And together we made our way into the pub.


	13. Chapter 13

The door to the pub opened once more, but once again it wasn't Hook. I'm not sure why I kept hoping it was, and each time I did I felt a little more foolish.

"Don't worry about him, dear." Nora kept her voice low so none of Hook's men would hear. "He'll come when he's ready. Finished?" she asked, pointing at my second empty plate. I nodded.

"Thank you." I said as Nora cleared it from the small corner table where we sat. She nodded before weaving back through the narrow space between tables and back through a door that I could only assume led to the kitchen.

The pub was packed, both with Hook's crew and men I didn't recognize. Besides the pub's bar wenches, only a few women peppered the crowd, their breasts threatening to escape the confines of their dresses and their waists constricted too tightly by corsets. When Nora and I had first walked through the door, most of them had given me a once over before smirking at my appearance and going back to their flirting.

My attention snapped back to my own table when someone slammed down a pint of ale in front of me, some of it sloshing over the sides making a small puddle on the old, warped wood.

"You look like you could use a drink." a man said as he sank down in the seat next to mine. His voice was deep and had a breathy grit to it, and it was only when I got a look at his face that I realized I knew who he was. His face was like leather and permanently stained brown from the rays of the sun. He wore a filthy rag on his head and, judging by how thin his brown hair was beneath it, he was more than likely balding.

He was part of Hook's crew, the man who asked for orders after I had come to during the storm. My vision had been blurry, but I recognized his dark clothes and his shape, not to mention his voice.

I stared at the wooden cup and the white suds that slowly dripped down the side of it. The smell of wheat and yeast rose up and filled the air in front of me and I crinkled my nose.

"Thank you," I told the man and he grunted, taking a long swig of his own ale, "But I don't drink ale."

He wiped his mouth on the back of his fraying sleeve before looking sideways at me. "You best get used to ale, miss. LeRoy don't have a bunch of fancy wine, and even if he did, I don't suppose he'd be bringing it out just for you." He said it so casually, as if he didn't care whether or not what he said would hurt my feelings.

I stared at the man for several moments before he finally glanced my way again, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he slid the cup a little closer to me and lifted his glass as if to make a toast.

I slowly took the cup in between my hands and ignored the wetness on my palms from the spilled ale. The man grinned, revealing many missing teeth, but unlike Gresham, his gums seemed a healthy pink and his remaining teeth weren't black. I gave a small, unsure smile before tapping my cup against his and brining the cup to my lips.

The man downed the rest of his ale in three gulps and then turned to watch me with eager eyes. "Come on," he urged, "You don't want it to get warm. Then it'll be all sorts of undrinkable."

Not wanting to upset the man by denying his drink, I drank. Well, I tried.

The ale tasted as bad as it smelled, all yeast and wheat and a bitterness that made me gag. I scrunched up my face and tried to pull the cup away from my lips, but there was resistance.

"No, no," the man said, "It's not a sipping drink, lass. Chug and it'll taste better." Then, he helped tip the cup farther back, and to avoid having ale spilt down the front of me, I did the only thing I could.

I opened wide and chugged.

The man wasn't wrong, the ale didn't taste nearly as bad as I chugged down mouthfuls, but it still was bad enough to make me shiver when I finally slammed the cup down on the table.

"Not half bad for a royal brat," the man nodded in approval and smiled. I couldn't help but notice the wave of crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled. Despite being a member of Hook's crew, he had kind eyes that reminded me a lot of my father's. I shared a smile of my own with his, but it was cut short when I hiccupped, which only made him chuckle. "Care for another?" he asked as he stood.

"I don't think so, Porter." Nora's voice cut in.

We both looked up to see Nora standing at the table with her arms crossed and a stern look in her eyes. Porter opened his mouth to say something, but when Nora arched one of her eyebrows, Porter just smiled.

"Alright, Nora. Alright. I just thought the girl deserved a drink after everything she's been through. Not to mention the day she has ahead of her."

I tilted my head, confused. What was he talking about?

"That's all fine and good, Porter," Nora said before I could ask what he had meant. "But I'm sure that no matter what today brings that she'll handle it properly. No need to get her drunk."

Porter smiled and bowed his head. "Fair enough." And then he turned back to me and flashed me a smile. "Until later, miss."

I tried to smile, but it felt forced as the questions pounded against my head. Before I could stop and ask any of those questions, he was on his way back to the bar, stopping at almost every table along the way to duck and whisper to the pub's occupants. Before he would move on to the next table, he would usually get the boys riled up in a laughing fit, whooping and hollering at some unheard joke.

"Come along, dear," Nora said sweetly as she motioned for me to stand.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice sounding as unsure as I felt.

"We're going to stop by my shop first to grab you some fitting clothes," Nora stated, her eyes quickly scanning over the clothes Hook had given me. "And then we're going to the springs so you can take a much needed bath." She said the last bit just as cheerily as the rest, but I couldn't help but feel that she was judging me as she said it. I felt a blush begin to blossom over my cheeks and ducked my head as I stood.

The ale hit me like a horse drawn carriage, the floor suddenly feeling fluid beneath my feet as the room tilted at a dangerous angle. I grasped the table tightly, hoping that holding onto something solid would make everything else fall back into place. It helped slightly, but not before Nora caught on to what was happening.

She shook her and sighed. "Our ale is a lot stronger than people think. One pint was probably more than enough to get you drunk." I nodded, my tongue feeling slightly swollen. "Come on," Nora said as she took my arm and steadied me. "Let's go."

With Nora's steadying grip, it seemed that no one noticed my drunken state, for which I was grateful. We weaved our way through the pub without drawing too much attention. Nora pushed open the door and we were about to take our first steps out of the pub when someone rounded the corner and ran smack into me.

I stumbled heavily, but thanks to Nora's firm grip, I didn't fall on my backside.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" came a shrill voice. "My apologies! Are you alright?"

I recognized that voice.

"It's no trouble, Marie," Nora said, waving off the girl's apologies as I felt myself bristle. Marie must have finally realized that it was me she ran into because her smile became strained.

"Enjoying the ale, your majesty?" The question was innocent enough, but the use of my title made it feel like more of a jab at my pride. Before I could spit back an answer, she leaned in and whispered, "You know, the captain doesn't like girls that can't hold their alcohol."

Anger flushed through me like a dam finally breaking, and I longed to wipe the smirk off of her face as she straightened up and started to make her way past us.

"Marie, dear?" Nora asked in her sweet voice. Marie turned and cocked an eyebrow, giving Nora the chance to continue. "The captain also doesn't like girls that offer to keep half the town's beds warm while he's away."

A bubble of laughter floated up and out of me, and I halfheartedly tried to cover the smile that had broken out on my lips as I watched understanding of what Nora was implying dawn on poor Marie's face.


	14. Chapter 14

Nora pulled on my arm and began to lead me back out the door, a small, victorious smile lighting up her face as we stepped onto the cobblestone street. I peeked over my shoulder one last time, just in time to see Marie pout and whirl on her heel, stomping off towards the bar as a few of the bar wenches swarmed her and patted her on the back and whispered small comforts to her. A few of them glared over their shoulders at me, but their dirty looks did nothing to make me feel bad. Not even a little bit.

Neither of us spoke as Nora guided me back down towards the beach, but the silence was anything but uncomfortable. I still had an arm linked through hers and she rested a warm, calloused hand over mine, even though the effects of the ale seemed to be fading somewhat.

The afternoon sun had coated the cobblestone in a blanket of warmth that felt pleasant beneath my feet despite the grains of sea salt and sand that seemed to always find their way in between my toes.

Nora's shop was a two-story building right on the edge of the street where it finally met the sand of the beach. The bottom floor had several tall windows that displayed everything from dresses to trousers to shirts like the one Hook wore.

I guessed that the second floor was her living quarters by the laundry that hung out of the second story windows.

"I just need to grab a few of your measurements," Nora explained as she brought out a roll of tailor's tape and started measuring. "This shouldn't take long."

And it didn't. Before I knew it, Nora was rolling up her tape and mumbling a string of numbers to herself that I could only assume were my measurements. Then, she ducked behind a table that was laid out with several different kinds of fabric and began rummaging through something. When she popped up again, she was holding a lavender sundress.

"This is the only one that I have made that's your size," Nora said as she folded the dress carefully over her arm. "I just have to grab a bar of soap and a brush and then we can be on our way. Feel free to look around if you'd like dear. Or you can wait outside." I nodded, and Nora took it as her signal to leave. She waddled to a door that was hidden towards the back of the shop and pulled out a small, silver key from her dress pocket. "Be back shortly!" she called out before closing the door and ascending up to the second floor.

When Nora finally returned, she pushed a bar of soap, a hairbrush, and the dress into one arm before handing me a pair of simple brown shoes.

"I'll tell you how to get to the springs," Nora explained as she guided me out the door. "They aren't all that difficult to find."

I stopped and turned to look at her. "You aren't coming with me?" I asked. I knew that I probably sounded childish, but she couldn't possibly be thinking about sending me out into this island on my own?

But instead of scolding me, Nora only gave me a warm smile. "Are you telling me those servants of yours never let you have a private bath?"

"N-No!" I sputtered, pinpricks of anxiety making their way across my skin. "I just hoped..."

What?

 _I just hoped that you would be coming with me? I just hoped that you would be there in case I ran into someone who was less than friendly? I just hoped you'd be there so I didn't get turned around? I just hoped you'd be there so I didn't have to be alone?_

"Dear, I promise you'll be just fine. The island isn't big, and there's a trail leading straight to the springs as long as you're paying attention to where you're walking. Besides," she said motioning back towards the shop, "I have some work I need to get done, so when you're done with your bath, come back here and you can help me around the shop."

She didn't leave much room for me to argue, so I just nodded and tried to swallow the worry that was rising in my throat.

"Good," she said with a nod. "Now, do you remember how to get to the pub?" I nodded. I'm pretty sure I could find it again. How hard could it be to find the most crowded place on the island? "When you get to the pub, keep going straight up the road for a while. When the cobblestone stops, there will be worn out trail heading out into the trees. Keep going until you come to a fork. Then, keep to the left, and you'll be there before you know it. The springs are pretty big so if there's someone already there, you should be able to find a private nook."

I felt my stomach drop at the thought of spotting someone in the middle of taking a bath.

Before my mind could get too creative, Nora took my arm and turned me up the road. "You'll be fine." she insisted again before giving me a gentle nudge. I took only a few uneasy steps before taking a peek over my shoulder, but Nora was already heading back inside her shop without looking back. I was on my own, so I took a deep breath, clutched the soap, brush, dress, and shoes against my chest, and started up the road.

As I came up on the pub, I slowed my steps to take a quick glance in the windows. Most of Hook's crew was still inside. I spotted Porter playing a card game with Gresham, Axton, Fane, and Langley, empty cups littering their table.

Marie was delivering drinks to a table of men that I didn't recognize, her sinister, flirty smile plastered on her face as she bent as far over as her corset would allow so they could study the line of her cleavage. I rolled my eyes before giving one last glance over.

Still no Hook.

 _He's hiding,_ I thought as I continued on my way, and I couldn't help but wonder where. The island wasn't large enough for him to hide forever.

I shook myself. Why did I care where Hook was?

 _I don't._ I thought to myself, but even as I thought it, I wasn't entirely convinced. It was confusing, feeling this way, being so annoyed with Hook and yet worrying about him. It was enough to make a girl's head spin.

The feeling of cool dirt beneath my feet brought me back to the task at hand, and I realized that I was at the start of the trail that would lead to the springs. Trees sprung up on either side of the trail, a stark contrast to the openness of the town at my back, and while I knew that I was safe, the inability to see the trail around the bend was a bit unsettling.

"Where you headed?" came a familiar soprano voice.

I looked up to find Tinkerbelle stepping out from behind one of the many trees at the trail's edge. Her hair was up just as it had been on the ship, her lips curled into the same, sweet smile, but this time she seemed much more solid. She didn't blur at the edges and she didn't flicker when she moved.

"Cat got your tongue?" she asked with the same kind smile. As she made her way over to me, she looked as though she was gliding, her feet hidden by the long, cream colored gown that billowed around her. The sleeves hung low on her shoulders, revealing the smooth curve of her neck.

If she wasn't here on this island and if I didn't know that she was an old friend of Hook's, I would have guessed she was a princess herself.

"I was on my way to the springs," I told her, and her eyes lit up.

"Do you mind if I join you?" she asked and I shook my head, more than happy to have someone familiar accompany me to the springs. Tinkerbelle beamed and clapped her hands together. "Excellent. Let's go!"

As we made our way down the path, the air was filled with Tinkerbelle's soft humming. Not wanting to interrupt the pretty melody, I stayed silent, listening to the long, melancholy notes as Tinkerbelle strung them together with each breath.

When her humming finally ceased, I took a breath to speak, to tell her how beautiful the song was, but I was interrupted by the sound of running water, the gentle trickle of water running over rock. I could smell it too, just like one can smell rain before a storm.

"They're right down here," Tinkerbelle explained as the path seemed to disappear at our feet. She guided me a little farther down into the trees before we came face to face with several large boulders. Tinkerbelle didn't hesitate to start weaving her way through them, and I found it hard to keep up with her on the uneven ground with my arms full. I had to watch where I put my feet with each step. One misstep could send me sprawling, and I had no doubt that I would probably break my ankle in the process.

"Hurry up, slow poke!" Tinkerbelle yelled, and I couldn't help but smile and roll my eyes.

"I'm coming!" I yelled back, but as I did so, I rounded one last boulder and came face to face with Tink. I gasped and nearly stumbled backwards before finding solid footing. "Tink! You- I thought- You sounded farther away."

Tinkerbelle giggled and shook her head, and it was then that I realized we were standing at the edge of a shallow pool, the water crystal clear except for the light cloud of steam that was rising off of its surface.

"Is this it?" I asked as I stared at the pool.

"Oh no," Tink said with a shake of her head. "There are others weaved throughout the boulders, but this one requires the least amount of climbing, and with your arms full I figured…" She shrugged, but I was already nodding.

"I understand. Thank you," I added with a smile, which Tinkerbelle returned. "Shall we?" I asked, nodding towards the pool.

"Oh, I won't be joining you. I figured I would just sit here and keep you company. And make sure that no one stumbles upon us." She gave me a wink before hiking her dress up to her knees and taking a seat on the rocky edge of the pool. It wasn't until she dipped her feet into the water that I realized she hadn't been wearing any shoes.

Tinkerbelle let out a sigh and let her shoulders slouch slightly as she relaxed.

I made a careful pile of all the things that I had been carrying before I began to undress, my back turned to Tink even though she kept her eyes forward. I listened to the gentle rippling of the pool as she glided her feet back and forth through the water.

The island air was warm as I pulled my shirt up and over my head, one hand immediately covering my breasts even though I was sure no one was looking. I quickly discarded the trousers and my underwear before snatching up the bar of soap and making my way to the edge of the spring.

"It's best just to jump in," Tink stated, a hint of a smile in her voice. When I looked at her, her eyes were still forward, trying to give me as much privacy as she could. She must have sensed my hesitation because her smile grew. "Trust me. If you take it little by little, it'll take you ages to get comfortable. Just jump in."

And so I did. I gripped the bar of soap tightly to my chest with one hand and plugged my nose with the other before launching myself into the pool.

The spring water was delightful. Warmth instantly enveloped my body, leaving a small pinprick sensation to spread across my feet, my hands, and my face before I planted my feet firmly on the smooth rock beneath my feet and stood. When I broke the surface, I took a deep breath and pushed my hair back before wiping the water from my eyes.

I let out sound that was something between a sigh and a groan as I wadded over to the side of the pool and set the soap on the edge. Not only was the pool the perfect temperature, but it was also the perfect depth. The water just ghosted over my shoulders, leaving enough room for me to feel like I could breathe without worrying about taking in water and drowning.

Tinkerbelle's laughter caused my eyes to snap to her, and when they landed on her, she was doubled over, my arm wrapped around her middle while her other hand tried to cover the smile that was splitting her face.

"What?" I asked, feeling a giggle rise in me even though I didn't know what was so funny.

"Y-You- You're-" Tinkerbelle tried to speak, but her laughter was getting the best of her. "You're s-so- so _pink!"_ she blurted before falling into another fit of laughter.

I tilted my head in confusion before lifting my hands to my face and feeling my skin. It was only when I saw my hands and arms that I understood.

I _was_ pink. The warmth from the spring had made my skin flush a rosy pink, and if my face looked anything like my arms, I'm sure I did look as funny as Tink seemed to think I was. I probably looked like I had spent too many hours in the sun. Imagining it myself made me laugh too, and pretty soon, we were both giggling uncontrollably.

After a few minutes, the laughing finally puttered out and while Tink sat up and wiped the laughter-induced tears off her cheeks, I reached for the soap and began lathering it through my hair.

I took my time. I washed every inch of my body slowly and with care, and then rinsed until there was no doubt that there was any soap left on my skin. I let my mind wander back over the last few weeks, let it all absorb into my mind as I tried to make sense of it all.

I thought of my father and John and felt my chest tighten as I fought to keep my throat open and unconstructed by unshed tears. I thought of Peter and of my nightmare and felt the tickle of fear in the pit of my stomach that grappled with anger at how quickly he had seemingly ruined my life. My mind even drifted to Leoma, Carlisle, and Harlan as I wondered how they were all taking the news of my kidnapping. I could imagine Leoma crying despite the fact that we didn't know each other all that well, and I could see sadness painted in Carlisle's eyes as he tried to be a good soldier. I couldn't really picture Harlan, his serious personality, his inability to look past being a soldier still leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

And I thought of Tink and Nora, two complete strangers who had welcomed me with open arms and a warmth that made me feel like I wasn't entirely alone in this crazy, upside down reality that had quickly become my life. I felt the corners of my mouth tug into a smile as warmth swelled in my chest.

And finally, I thought of Hook, and I felt-

"Holly?" Tink's voice sounded a bit unsure, as if she could tell I was in deep thought and she didn't want to interrupt.

"Hmm?" I mused, blinking away the last of my straggling thoughts. I turned my eyes to Tink, to give her my full attention, and found that she had pulled her feet from the pool and had pulled her knees up and under her chin. Her light brows were knitted together and her honey eyes were clouded with worry. "Tink?" I asked gently as I waded over to where she was and leaned against the edge of the pool, resting my chin on the warm, rocky edge. "Tink, what's wrong?"

Tink shook her head. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just curious is all?"

"Curious about what?" It was my turn to knit my brows together.

Silence stretched between us as Tink reached up and tucked a curl behind her ear. She seemed to be thinking about her answer, her eyes calculating as she watched me.

When she spoke, her voice was low, almost a whisper, and she seemed to weigh each word carefully. "What do you think will happen when Peter arrives for you today and you aren't there for him to take?"


	15. Chapter 15

The water was too hot. I couldn't breathe. I needed out.

I tried to keep calm and composed as I pushed myself up and out of the pool, but as I reached for the linen to begin drying off, I saw my hands trembling in such a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the air hitting my wet skin.

Once again, Tink kept her eyes forward, but I could tell she was itching to look at me, to say something to try and cool the burning fear that was bubbling in the pit of my stomach as her words continued to ring loud in my ears.

 _What do you think Peter will do when he arrives for you today and you aren't there for him to take?_

Today. Again, I hadn't given much thought to my lost time on the Jolly Roger, so it didn't occur to me that Peter would be arriving for me _today_ instead of tomorrow. I don't know why the thought of him arriving in Mystasia tomorrow made me feel better, but it did.

 _What do you think Peter will do when he arrives for you today and you aren't there for him to take?_

"Holly?" Tink's timid voice floated across the ground.

"Yes?" I asked as I set the linen aside and began stepping into the dress. The light, cotton material was soft beneath my fingers and brushed over my skin lightly as I adjusted the material around my waist and pulled the straps up and over my shoulders.

As I slipped on the plain brown shoes, Tink finally swiveled her head to look at me. "I'm sorry," she said looking up at me. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," I interrupted, although my tone sounded a bit harsh. Guilt immediately flooded through me, so I softened my tone as I repeated, "It's fine, Tink. Really. I just… haven't given it much thought." I sighed and massaged my forehead, a dull pounding beginning to make itself known as I made my way over to sit with Tink again.

As I folded my legs carefully underneath me, Tink leaned back and grabbed the hairbrush Nora had sent with me before crawling behind me. I was about to ask her what she was doing when I felt her take my damp hair in one hand and began running the brush through it with the other.

We sat in silence for a while as Tink brushed my hair in long, even strokes. Usually, the act of someone brushing my hair would relax me, but as the silence stretched, it only allowed my mind to become more frantic.

"Do you think he'll hurt anyone?" My question came out in a whisper, my voice cracking towards the end. Hook's words to my father echoed in my ears.

 _If he has to take her from you, he'll kill you in the process…_

And if I wasn't there for him to take, would he kill him anyway? Would Peter even stop to listen to my father's story about my kidnapping? And even if Peter did, would he believe it? Or would he think it was a ploy to keep me from him?

"I don't know, Holly." Tink admitted, and I felt the ice in my stomach begin to spread through my veins. "Peter is... unpredictable at the best of times. It's hard to say how he'll react." While I'm sure she thought her words would be some sort of small comfort, they had quite the opposite effect. I felt sick, my breathing becoming labored as my head began to spin.

The brushing stopped, and I heard Tink set the brush down before she came to sit next to me again, her body turned towards me. I could feel her studying me, her honey eyes watching me carefully, but I kept my eyes on the rising steam of the pool.

"Holly, as long you're on this island, Peter can't get to you. You're safe here."

"But what about everyone else?" I blurted, my voice desperate. "What about my father? My friends? The people on the other islands that will suffer? That have already suffered? People have already _died_ because my father wouldn't give Pan what he wanted!" My voice was rising by the second. " _Five_ boys have already _died,_ Tink. How many more are going to die?"

Tears blurred my vision as a sob choked me, and I felt my fingernails digging into my palms as I clenched my fists.

Gently, Tink took my hands into hers, her skin soft and warm as she pried my nails from my skin and rubbed the back of my hands with her thumbs.

I tried to blink the new onslaught of tears away, but two tears escaped down my cheeks, each one dipping into the curve of my collarbone before sliding down and being absorbed into the soft cotton of my dress. When I looked at Tink, she was wearing a slight frown, her eyes gleaming with the threat of her own tears.

"I can only protect those that are on this island," she said, her voice wavering before she swallowed hard. She cleared her throat several times before continuing with a steadier voice. "The veil does not stretch. Believe me, Holly, I've tried." She squared her shoulders and looked me square in the eye as if I was going to contradict her, to call her a liar, and I wondered if anyone else had ever made her feel guilty about protecting this island and not anywhere else.

Then, out of a far-off corner of my mind, came an idea.

"Tink," I gasped as I gripped her hands tightly, hope swelling in me so fast that I was sure it would pop, "You can teach me how to make a veil! Then, I can go home and-"

But Tink was already shaking her head. I sputtered to a stop as she squeezed my hands. "Holly…" she trailed off, and then she sighed. "Holly, it's not as simple as teaching you how to make a veil. It isn't _possible_ to teach that to somebody."

But I wasn't ready to give up hope. "Then how did you do it?"

Tink gave a half-hearted smile. "Well, first off, I'm not like you or Hook or Nora or anyone else. I'm different."

"Different how?"

"I was once a part of a group of people that were known as the Good People." I arched an eyebrow, already unable to believe what I was hearing. "Most stories relate to us as Fairies."

"Faeries." I stated and Tink nodded, her eyes lighting up with a smile. "You mean to tell me that faeries are real?"

Tink's smile became strained as she quipped. "There were many things that used to exist before Peter became obsessed with bloodshed." There was acid in her tone that I had never heard before, a tone that I didn't think Tink was capable of, but her anger quickly shifted to sadness as she ducked her head and looked at our joined hands.

"I'm sorry," I said, and I meant it, but Tink simply waved it off.

"Don't apologize. You didn't know. Not very many people do anymore. The existence of the Good People ended many lifetimes ago and has long since settled into legend and myth, stories that parents tell their children at night to help them sleep soundly and to keep the nightmares away."

I weighed my next words carefully. "But _you're_ still here."

She sighed, long and low and she nodded slowly. "I'm still here." she echoed, her voice sounding far away.

"How?" I asked, unable to keep my curiosity at bay.

She chuckled, but there was no humor in it. Only sadness. "I swore to protect this island and the people who inhabited it from Peter and the Lost Boys. It would require all of my magic to keep the veil in place, and if I ever left, the veil would leave with me." She shrugged, as if what she was saying was simple. "So I stayed."

My heart ached for the girl sitting in front of me. She had given up everything in order to protect this island and the people on it, to protect me, and had lost everyone else in the process. And she had lost them all _lifetimes_ ago. I couldn't even begin to wonder how hard it must have been to let them all go, and how hard it must have been to watch Peter and the Lost Boys take them away.

"It's not all bad," she said squeezing my hands reassuringly. "I had Thomas and the crew. And I've come to know and love Nora and everyone else on the island. They've become my family." Then she smiled at me, a wide smile that lit up her entire face. "And now I have you. And we'll figure out how to help your family and your people."

I didn't think twice as I pulled Tink into a tight embrace. New tears filled my eyes, but they weren't tears of worry and sadness. They were happy tears. Tears of relief that someone was going to help me try and defeat Pan and his Lost Boys.

"Thank you," I whispered as her loose curls tickled the side of my face and I felt her squeeze me tighter.

"You're very welcome," she said with a sincerity that made my chest hurt. Then, she was pulling away and getting to her feet and dragging me up with her. "Go talk to Thomas," she said as she bent down to collect the damp linen, the brush, and the bar of soap off of the ground. "He might have an idea or two on how to help."

"Hook? Are you sure? I don't really think he's interested in helping me." And I _wasn't_ sure, and based on how we had left just earlier this afternoon, I wasn't sure he even wanted to speak with me.

"Sure he is," Tink assured me with a smile. "Beating Pan has been on his to-do list for a very long time."

"That doesn't necessarily mean he wants to help _me,_ " I emphasize, but she only shrugged.

"He'll be at the well," Tink stated as she turned to make her way back between the boulders. "Follow the trail back to the fork and take the other path. Follow it for a while. When the trail ends, just keep going straight. You'll find him there. I'll take these back to Nora for you," she said, holding up the small pile of bathing essentials.

"O-Okay," I said, feeling more unsure of myself by the second, and then Tink was on her way out, leaving me to either stand there alone or follow her.

And so I followed her, but when I finally stepped out of the maze of boulders, it was as if Tink had vanished.

 _He'll be at the well._ Her words echoed in my mind as I made my way up the trail and to the fork. When I stood at the crossway, I paused a moment.

 _I could go back to town,_ I thought. _I could go back and help Nora in the shop like she said I should._

And how could I be sure that Hook would be where Tink thought he'd be?

 _Only one way to find out,_ I finally decided, and I turned up the trail to find the well.

And to find Hook.


	16. Chapter 16

Even after the trail disappeared underneath my feet, I kept walking straight ahead, and while I knew that Tink wouldn't get me lost on purpose, I couldn't help but wonder if I was going to get lost anyway.

But then I spotted him through the trees, his black leather coat standing out amongst the thinning branches as I walked closer to the edge of what I could only assume was a clearing. His back was to me and he seemed to be leaning over something, his hand and hook braced on stone on either side of him.

 _The well._ I thought and sighed in relief. At least he was where Tink said he'd be, and at least I was in the right place.

My eyes scanned over some sort of statue that sat on the edge of the well, but it was so worn down that it was hard to make out exactly what it was from a distance.

I came to a halt at the edge of the clearing when I heard Hook sigh. He carded a hand through his dark hair, and I noticed that he _still_ hadn't bathed or changed his clothes. It seemed that each time that I saw him he was becoming more and more disheveled.

He mumbled something, but I couldn't understand him from where I stood, and I was sure that it was probably something he wouldn't want me to hear anyway. As far as he knew, he was alone.

 _Maybe I should leave,_ I thought, chewing on my bottom lip, but I quickly reminded myself that I had come here for a reason. As much as I hated to admit it, I needed Hook's help in figuring out a way to help my father and my people.

And maybe, just maybe, he'd help me if I could offer him something worth his while.

His freedom.

I drew myself up to my full height, tilted my chin up and was about to strut into the clearing and demand his help when Hook's hand snaked around a loose rock on the well's edge and let out a frustrated yell, swinging around and flinging the rock off into the trees far to my right.

I startled, all my confidence flushing from me at the animalistic look in his eyes; the same look that he had when he attacked the guard in the throne room the day he had arrived in Mystasia.

When his eyes snapped to me, it took every ounce of self-control I had left not to turn and bolt down the path and back to the semi-safety of town. His chest heaved with each breath and even under all the layers of his clothes, I could see his muscles ripple, coiling tight, waiting to spring.

 _Run, you idiot!_ my mind screamed at me, but fear and panic had me glued to the spot, my hands bunched up in the material of my dress as I tried to keep them from shaking.

And in the blink of an eye, the animalistic look was gone. He relaxed his stance and he furrowed his brow.

"Holly?" he asked, sounding perplexed. His eyes slid over my body, taking in my lack of a shirt, trousers, and sea crusted hair.

All I could do was nod as he took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. If I was being generous, he looked _terrible._

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice coming out much smaller than I had hoped. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but I needed to talk to you and-"

"It's fine, love," Hook said, waving away my apology before slowly easing himself onto the well's edge. He rubbed his eyes again, and I couldn't help but feel bad for the man. He hadn't slept during his time in the dungeons, and he still had a while before nightfall. When he looked up at me, he waved me over. "No need to stand all the way over there," he commented, but he must have sensed my hesitation because he added, "Don't worry, love, I'm not angry anymore."

I took a hesitant step into the clearing, and then another.

"Are you sure?" I asked. I couldn't help it. I needed to know.

He gave me a soft smile, his eyes crinkling in the corners slightly as he did so. It was hard to miss the dark bags that plagued his face as I got closer. "Positive." he assured me. "I like the dress. Nora's work?"

There was a flutter in my stomach as I felt my cheeks warm under his gaze. I ducked my head and pretended to study the dress as I came to a halt a few feet away from him. I thanked him, feeling a little breathless as I did so. "She said it was the only one she had made that was my size; said it was more fitting than…" I suddenly felt hot with embarrassment as I realized that I was walking the line between being honest and being down right rude. I pressed my lips together and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear as I tried to backpedal.

"More fitting than my shirt and trousers?" Hook inquired, and I was relieved to see that he was smiling with no trace of hurt feelings in sight. I nodded again and waited as his bright eyes fluttered over me again, his hand coming up to absentmindedly rub his jaw.

Silence stretched between us as Hook studied me, but I couldn't bring myself to break his concentration. The way the afternoon sun fell across his dark hair and the sharp angles of his face made him handsome despite his dishevelment and obvious lack of sleep. But there was something else too, something I hadn't seen before.

Uncertainty. A guarded look that must have taken years to disguise as nothing more than a glance.

Then he sighed and said, "While I agree with Nora's taste for you, love, I must say that I quite liked seeing you in my clothes."

And just like that, he was back to being the same, flirtatious pirate that had shown up in my kingdom all those weeks ago. The uncertainty that had come to the surface vanished, and he was grinning at me in a way that would make any girl weak in the knees.

He arched an eyebrow at my stunned silence, a low chuckle resonating in his chest as my heart hammered away in mine.

"You alright there, love?" he crooned as he crossed one ankle over the other and leaned back slightly on the heels of his hand and the curve of his hook, loose bits of rock falling down the well.

"O-Of course," I stated, my voice coming out a bit raspy. I cleared my throat as Hook looked on, amusement at my flustered state written all over his face.

"Mhm," he drawled, not believing a word I said. "How did you find me anyway? Did Nora send you?"

 _Saved by the change of topic!_ I thought, sending a quick prayer of thanks to whatever was listening. I wasn't sure I could have kept semi calm and collected much longer.

I shook my head and twisted my hands together as I remembered the reason why I had come to find him in the first place and kicked myself for letting him distract me.

"No, Nora didn't send me."

Hook tilted his head, his brows drawing together as he watched me. "Who sent you then?"

"Tink did."

Hook's face fell instantly, shock and disbelief carved in the way he clenched his jaw and slowly got to his feet, his stance rigid as he took a measured step towards me. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice no higher than a whisper, low and with a hint of warning that I didn't understand.

I opened my mouth to answer, then closed it, and then opened it again. "I said that Tink-"

"I _know_ what you said," Hook hissed, taking another threatening step towards me and, this time, I stepped back, but I wasn't fast enough. He quickly grabbed my wrist and pulled me close, our bodies almost brushing and his breath hot on my face as he stared down at me. All flirtation and friendliness had vanished, and his eyes flicked across my face and back to my eyes as if he was searching for something, and I couldn't help but shake the feeling that something was very, _very_ wrong.

"W-What-?"

"Did someone tell you to say that to me?" Hook's voice was venom, and his grip was almost painful on my wrist as I stared on, wide-eyed and utterly terrified as the anger from earlier started to seep back into his eyes, turning them the color of the sky just before a storm.

"What? N-No!" I insisted as I fished for some sort of explanation that would make everything go back to normal.

"Then _why_ would you say that? Is this you and Nora's way of trying to be funny?" he demanded, his voice rising.

"I-I don't understand," I stumbled over my words. Hook rolled his eyes, and I felt my own anger flare. "Hook, what in the world did I say?"

"Tink couldn't have sent you," he explained, his anger still evident in the way he emphasized every word, bits of spit hitting my face, although I didn't reach up to wipe it away. I feared that anything could send Hook into a rage, and I didn't want that. The dark storm in his eyes was returning, and this time, it was all targeted at me.

"Why not?" I asked as calmly as I could. My eyes searched Hook's as I tried to let him know that I had no idea what had made him so angry. It seemed to work somewhat because his grip loosened just slightly. Then, he took a deep breath through his nose and glanced over my head and then down at our feet. He exhaled, and then brought his eyes up to mine.

A hard knot formed in my stomach as he peered up at me. His eyes were so clouded with anger and hurt, and he had to swallow a few times before he could even answer me.

"Tink couldn't have sent you, Holly." Hook's voice was flat.

"Why?" I pressed, wanting answers. Needing answers.

"Because Tink's dead."


	17. Chapter 17

_Tink's dead._

My heart dropped into my stomach at his words, but quickly jumped back into my chest, hammering hard as anger filled me.

"Do you take me for a fool?" I demanded as I finally snatched my wrist out of his grasp. He let his hand drop to his side, glowering down at me.

"Hardly." he spat. "But you must take _me_ for one if you think I'm going to believe that Tinkerbelle, who has been very much dead for years, sent you to find me."

"She did!" I insisted, my voice rising.

"Enough!" Hook snapped, and I froze. "I will not allow you to toy with me!" His chest heaved as he tried to control his breathing, his eyes blazing with raw hurt that he didn't even seem to try to hide. He kept his eyes locked on mine, searching for something that I wasn't sure I possessed, and when he finally spoke again, his voice was low. "If you _ever_ bring up Tink again, or if you ever try to use her death to get to me, I'll hand you over to Pan myself."

My insides went cold, my fingernails digging painfully into my palms as I tried to breathe.

"Do I make myself clear?" he asked, leaning down so he was eye to eye with me. There was no hesitation in his voice, no humor in his eyes.

I ducked my head and nodded, unable to take the intensity of his gaze burning into me. But I was still confused, my brain muddled as I wrestled with everything.

Nora and Hook _both_ had talked about Tink outside the pub. Why would they talk about her as if she was alive? And didn't Tink say something to Hook about helping _me?_ A dead person can't do that.

And I _saw_ her! Saw her with my own two eyes! I spoke to her, laughed with her, let her brush my hair. If she was dead, then none of that should have been possible.

But the hurt in Hook's eyes spoke volumes of truth, and that left my head spinning.

Gathering what little courage I had left, I looked up at Hook then and asked, "If Tinkerbelle is really dead-" the word tasted funny on my tongue, "-then why didn't Nora say anything? Why didn't _you_ say anything? You both talked about her as though she was _alive._ "

Hook ducked his head, his hand running over the back of his neck as I continued to stand my ground. No amount of silence was going to get him out of this one. Not this time. When I didn't back down, Hook huffed, annoyance evident in the way he clenched his jaw and peered down at me through thick lashes.

"It's really none of your business." he finally said, and I could have reached up and strangled him I was so angry. But he didn't give me the chance. "I'm going to the pub," Hook clipped as he took a step back and turned to leave. "Don't cause any trouble." I'm sure he meant to sound threatening, just as he had before, but he sounded more wary than anything, as if our argument had taken a lot out of him.

I wrapped my arms around my middle as he began his way back the way I had come.

"Say hello to Marie for me," I quipped sarcastically.

Hook paused, and for a brief moment I wondered if I had crossed another line. He peered over his shoulder at me, his bright eyes back to being guarded before he shook his head and continued on his way without a word, leaving me alone at the well.

When I was sure that Hook was long gone and out of earshot, I let out a frustrated scream, my fingers finding their way into my hair as I pulled slightly. But it wasn't enough. I wanted to scream and thrash and scream some more, but I didn't want to bring anyone running, so I took the few strides to the well, leaned over, and screamed as loud and as long as I could.

My scream bounced off the walls of the well, echoing for a while until I finally couldn't scream anymore. When I was finally satisfied and my throat felt scratchy and sore, I looked up, and came face to face with the statue that sat on the opposite side of the well.

Upon closer inspection, the statue looked like someone, more specifically, a girl, sitting on the edge of the well with her feet dangling down. Her hands rested gently on either side of her, her gown stopping just above her bare feet.

The head was bowed, as if she was looking down into the well, her face framed by beautifully carved curls that had long since succumb to wear with what I could only assume was age and weather. I ducked to try and get a better look at the statue's face, but just like the rest of the statue, the face was almost worn to nothing, her nose the only thing that still held its shape.

An uneasy feeling rose in my throat, but I pushed it down. The statue could be of anyone. It wasn't Tink.

It _couldn't_ be Tink.

 _"I swore to protect this island and the people who inhabited it from Peter and the Lost Boys_." Tink's voice floated through my mind. _"It would require all of my magic to keep the veil in place, and if I ever left, the veil would leave with me. So I stayed."_

But she had never said anything about _dying._

Hook's words battled against Tink's in my mind as I tried to think clearly, but no matter how certain I was that Tink was alive, I couldn't help but remember the hurt in Hook's eyes, the truth in his words when he told me she was dead and had been dead for many years.

Taking a step back from the well, I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm my thoughts and to ease the growing unease that seemed to be blossoming in the pit of my stomach.

 _I need to find Tink,_ I thought, and there was something both unsettling and comforting about that idea. _I need to find Tink. She'll know what is going on._

As I took off back through the trees, I couldn't push away the feeling that there were eyes on my back, but I didn't dare peer over my shoulder. I didn't want to see any eyes staring back at me.

 _Find Tink,_ I kept repeating in my mind. _Just find Tink._


	18. Chapter 18

Apparently, finding Tink was easier said than done. I searched for what felt like hours, starting at the springs and then in the woods close to the trail leading back to town, but to no avail. Tink didn't want to be found.

 _Or there's no one to find._ I pushed the thought away, but the longer I looked, the more persistent the thought became. I was beginning to doubt myself and my insistence that Tink was alive and somewhere on the island.

I felt like I was going crazy; second guessing everything and then going back on myself, convincing myself that Tink was alive one moment, only to think Hook was right the next. It was infuriating, and I could feel my agitation practically buzzing on my skin.

I began my trek back into town when the shadows began to get long and the sun began its fall behind the trees and towards the western horizon. Despite it being early Spring, Starrview's climate seemed consistent, the temperature hardly budging as the shadows began to fill the spots where the sun's rays had been just minutes before.

I wasn't complaining. I could get used to consistently warm weather.

"Where have you _been?_ "

I looked up to find Nora climbing the road towards me, her short legs swinging out slightly, much like a duck's, as she waddled up to meet me. Her hands were bunched in her dress, holding up the fabric to keep herself from tripping, and her face was flushed pink from the excursion.

Did I tell her? Did I dare?

"I was just exploring the island a bit," I lied, deciding to leave Tink out of the conversation, at least for now.

Nora's waddling came to a halt, and she planted her hands on her hips as her chest rose and fall in an attempt to catch her breath. "By yourself?" she asked in disbelief.

I nodded. "Is that alright?"

"Of course it is, dear," Nora reassured me, waving away my question. "I just got worried when you didn't come back from your bath. I figured you would probably explore a little bit, but-" she took a few more gulps of air, "-it's been hours."

I had completely forgotten about Nora's request to return to the shop after my bath. I had been too caught up in talking to Tink and then finding Hook.

"Oh," was all I managed before motioned for me to follow her.

"Are you hungry?" she asked as she turned and began walking back to town.

I hadn't given food or drink much thought as I searched for Tink, but at the mention of food, my stomach growled and my throat went dry. I nodded.

"Good. The pub is getting ready for the dinner rush, and we best get you a seat before the place fills up."

My heart sank.

"The pub?" I tried to sound nonchalant, but by the way Nora glanced sideways at me, I could tell she could sense me dragging my feet.

"Yes, dear, the pub. Where else do you expect to eat dinner?"

"I, um… Doesn't anyone cook in their own home?" I felt like a whining child, but Hook would be at the pub, and I wasn't sure I could face him just yet.

"Of course they do," Nora scoffed, "But none of them invited you, and it would be rude to invite yourself."

I flushed red. "Of course."

Silence settled between us, the only sound rising up from the cobblestone as our shoes clicked against it.

"Does this have anything to do with Thomas?" Nora inquired, one of her eyebrows arching knowingly as she glanced up at me.

"W-What? No!" I cringed inwardly at my defensive tone. I might as well have told her everything the lie was so bad. My cheeks flushed again as I tried to keep my eyes forward, but I could feel Nora's eyes on me, and when I finally caved and glanced at her, both her eyebrows were up, and she was giving me a look that said, " _I know you just lied to me you silly girl. Nice try though_."

I sighed, and when I opened my mouth to explain, Nora just held up a hand to silence me.

"It's none of my business, dear," she said with a gentle smile. "I know you and Thomas have an… interesting relationship." I opened my mouth to protest, to tell her that Hook and I's relationship, if one could even call it that, was anything but interesting, but she just shushed me again. "I know Thomas is upset with you, for whatever reason, but it'll pass. He's quick to anger, but trust me, it'll pass."

I nodded, more to appease Nora than anything, but I couldn't help but feel that maybe Hook's anger with me _wouldn't_ pass, and I would have been lying if I said that didn't bother me.

We walked the remainder of the way in a comfortable silence, my mind still a whirling mess as we made our way to the pub.

Nora was right about the pub filling up fast. There were hardly any tables left when we shuffled in, but once we were in the door, Nora made a beeline to an empty one, motioning me over so I would have a seat.

I tried to keep my eyes forward, to keep my attention on Nora, but a burst of laughter to my right drew my attention, and I couldn't help but look.

And I immediately regretted it.

Hook sat at the end of a long, crowded table, a pint of ale in one hand and his hooked hand wrapped tightly around Marie's waist. She also held a pint of ale in one hand while her other hand was busy tracing his jaw and carding through his hair. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, and I felt a dull pang that seemed to press into my stomach.

Marie's eyes floated up and locked with mine, a triumphant twinkle in her eyes as a sinister smile blossomed on her lips. Hook's eyes fluttered open and he looked up at her, his head turning in my direction when he realized Marie's attention had shifted.

I tried to get my feet to move before he realized I was standing in the middle of the pub watching them, but when his eyes found mine, I froze again, the pang in my gut persistent as I watched the care-free expression on his face vanish.

He hated me.

His jaw tightened and his smile disappeared as watched me, but Marie didn't let him look for long. Her painted nails found their way beneath his chin and pulled his face back to hers as she gently planted a painted kiss to his lips.

The men at their table cheered, spurring on Marie's actions as she deepened the kiss, and I felt my stomach twist.

Deciding that I didn't want to still be standing there for them to look at when they came up for air, I tore my gaze away and dragged my heavy feet towards the table where Nora waited, her face unreadable as she too watched Marie and Hook.

As I sank into my seat, I tried to focus on anything but the two infuriating human beings lip locking across the pub, but that proved difficult. Memories of Hook and I's own kiss in the dungeon flashed to the front of my mind. His lips, although dry and chapped at the time, had been warm.

I kicked myself as I felt my cheeks grow warm. I didn't need to be thinking about Hook like that.

My eyes finally peeled away from Hook and Marie when I heard Nora sigh. She was shaking her head and mumbling something I couldn't understand. Then, she shuffled off, back through the kitchen door where I caught a glimpse of Dane poking at a good-sized wild bird over the fire.

Nora returned a few minutes later with a plate of wild bird, mashed potatoes, gravy, a biscuit, and a tall glass of ale. My eyebrows shot up at her choice of drink, but she only smiled.

"Take it slow tonight, dear. None of Porter's chugging." She gave me a knowing smile and a wink before she explained that she was needed in the kitchen. "Don't wait up if it gets too late. Some of these boys will stay till the break of dawn if LeRoy lets them. There's a building back towards my shop that looks like an inn. Do you know which one I'm talking about?"

I nodded. I remembered a group of men playing a card and dice game earlier just outside of it.

Nora smiled. "Good. Now, it's not an inn. It's the living quarters for a lot of folk who haven't a home of their own yet. Thomas and his crew stay there, so you won't be surrounded by strangers. There should be a spare room for you there."

I gave Nora the best smile I could muster as I tried to keep my shoulders from sagging. The last thing I wanted to do was stay under the same roof as Hook, especially if he and Marie were planning on staying together for the night. The thought made me feel sick, although I wasn't sure why.

"Be good," Nora said as she cupped one of cheeks before a wide smile broke out across her lips. I smiled back, a warmth beginning to spread from my cheek to the rest of my body before Nora finally waddled away, her voice ringing out in the kitchen before the door swung shut.

I ate my meal in silence, taking large gulps of my ale despite Nora's instructions to "take it slow". I made a mental note to drink some water to help balance everything out, but I couldn't help but enjoy the warmth that began to course through my veins as the ale started to do its magic.

When my plate and cup were empty, I debated about whether or not I should I go look for Tinkerbelle again. The sun was setting fast, the rays casting a warm glow outside that reminded a lot of how the ale was making me feel.

I smiled to myself, getting ready to stand up and resume my search for Tink when Porter plopped down to my right, a pint of ale in each hand, one of which he slid across the table to me with a wink. He also seemed to be carrying a long box beneath one arm.

And he wasn't alone.

A few more men that I recognized from Hook's crew sank down in the chairs around the small corner table, each of them holding a pint of their own. It was hard to miss Langley and his large frame as he sank into the chair to my left with a grunt. Smee, his face looking enflamed from all the ale in his system, sucked in his round belly in order to squeeze into his chair. Fane was also amongst them, his thin build snaking into the chair across from me as he took a long gulp of his drink.

Between Porter and Fane, there was a younger man, probably not much older than me, that I didn't remember seeing during my time on the Jolly Roger. He had golden curls that hung in ringlets around his face and blue eyes that reminded me of the ocean. A short goatee of blonde whiskers covered his lip and chin, framing his mouth and crooked smile.

And that crooked smile was aimed at me.

I took a nervous swig of my ale, all plans to slip out of the pub to find Tink suddenly gone.

"Holly," Porter's breathy grit floated to my ears, "This disgustingly handsome piece of scum is Reilly. I believe you know everyone else."

I nodded, my eyes landing on each of the men at the table in turn. Smee hicupped and gave a lazy wave, almost tipping his ale onto his striped shirt. Langley grunted and Fane just inclined his head. When my eyes finally fell back on Reilly, I was unnerved to find him still staring at me.

"It's nice to meet you," I said, trying to sound polite, but it came out forced and anything but genuine. Reilly, however, did not seem deterred.

"The pleasure is all mine, miss." he said, his voice lilting with an accent that I couldn't quite place.

We all drank in silence for far too long before Reilly leaned in, both elbows planted firmly on the table as he asked, "What brings ye t' Starryview, Holly?"

He seemed genuinely interested, and his friendliness was a nice contrast to Hook's cold demeanor, but I didn't have a chance to answer him myself because suddenly, someone was shouting at Porter from across the pub.

"Porter, lad," Hook shouted from his table, and I felt my cheeks grow hot as everyone turned to look at our table. "Get that old block-of-wood you call a fiddle out and play us a tune!"

Marie was leaning heavily into Hook, her cheeks flushed pink with a mixture of ale and the increasing temperature of the pub. She shouted in agreement, and the rest of their table followed, and soon, the entire pub was chanting for Porter to play a tune.

"Oh, alright, alright!" Porter finally shouted back. He chugged the rest of his ale as the entire pub, Langley and myself excluded, cheered. Then, Porter reached under his chair and brought out the box that he had had under his arm.

As Porter tuned the worn strings of his fiddle, a few of the men at Hook's table began to pushed the tables in the middle of the pub out of the way to create a wide open space. Now, the already crowded pub felt claustrophobic as my seat got pushed all the way back to the wall, the table threatening to split poor Langley in two as Porter made his way to the middle of the new space.

Everyone watched with anticipation as Porter took a deep breath and placed the instrument on his shoulder, his chin resting on the fiddle as he brought the bow to hover the strings.

I found myself leaning forward just like everyone else, curious as to what Porter was about to play, ale induced butterflies fluttering in my stomach as if I was the one up there in front of all these people instead of Porter.

That's when I saw him look at me, his stormy grey eyes twinkling as he shot me a wink.

And then the bow slid across the strings in a blur, his stokes becoming quick and his fingers flying in a way that didn't seem possible.

Almost immediately, the patrons of the pub began to cheer, their claps filling the air as Porter's face broke out in a grin, his eyes closed as he leaned into the crescendos and then back as if he was part of the fiddle itself.

Many people surged to their feet in order to incorporate stomping their feet along with their claps, and I stood with them, hardly tall enough to see above the heads of the many men and few women from the back of the pub, but I didn't want to miss a second of Porter's performance, so I stepped up onto my chair and gave myself a clear view of the entire place.

A few of Hook's men had taken to grabbing a bar wench and had begun dancing in the space around Porter. Shouts of encouragement followed, and I couldn't help but smile as they twirled and jumped and began grabbing others from around the crowd's edge to join in the fun.

My eyes involuntarily floated over to where Hook and Marie had been sitting, only to find Marie whispering into Hook's ear, a wicked grin on her lips and eyes practically lust blown and she trailed her hand down over his chest.

But whatever it was that Marie was saying, Hook didn't agree. He gently shook his head and whispered something back, trailing a finger carefully across her cheek and tilting her chin up so she would look at him, a pout now replacing the smile she had been wearing just seconds before.

His eyes didn't even flicker over to me, and I wasn't sure whether I was relieved or a bit annoyed. If I was being honest, I was a little bit of both.

"Holly," someone said, and I peeled my eyes away from Hook to find Reilly looking up at me, a friendly smile on his face and a hand outstretched. "Would ye like t' dance?"

My first thought was to politely decline, to tell Reilly that I didn't know how to dance (even though I did, somewhat), and to encourage him to ask someone else, but then I noticed how his eyes twinkled. He wasn't going to take no for an answer.

And I wasn't even completely sure I _wanted_ to tell him no.

I nodded shyly, and Reilly beamed. Just as I was reaching out to take his hand, I felt a large hand tap my left shoulder. I looked down from my spot atop my chair to find Langley looking up at me, his face unreadable.

Without a word, he held up a still-full glass of ale as if saying _You might want this._

And I did. Although I was a decent dancer, it was still nerve-wracking to dance in front of people I didn't know. And Hook, even though I'm sure he wasn't going to be watching me dance.

I took the pint and downed it in four large gulps. It was getting easier to drink the wheat and yeast flavored liquid, but I didn't take any time to think about whether or not that was a good thing as I smiled at Langley and handed back the now-empty pint. Langley just nodded, a ghost of a smile on his lips that almost looked out of place.

Reilly's hand was warm, his skin softer than Hook's as his long fingers wrapped around mine.

Without thinking, I stepped up onto the table and walked across, ignoring the eyes that flashed up to me as Porter continued his seamless tune.

Reilly chuckled as I hopped off the table and landed next to him and Fane before straightening and chuckling myself. Reilly didn't let go of my hand as he led me out to the dance floor, and he kept glancing over his shoulder as if to make sure I was still with him.

When we broke through the front line of people, Porter looked up, beamed, and shouted, "Atta girl!"

This drew Hook's attention. Behind Porter's head, I saw Hook's head snap to me, leaving Marie in the middle of a sentence. He looked surprised to see me front and center, but then his eyes slid down my arm and to where Reilly's hand covered mine.

And he stiffened.

My stomach fluttered. Was he jealous?

Reilly didn't give me much time to linger on the thought as his left hand found its place on my waist and his right hand tugged me towards him. When he started moving his feet, it was quick and unexpected and I would have stumbled had he not been holding onto me.

"Just relax," he leaned in as close as he could and whispered. "I'll guide you. Just follow me."

Now the ale was _really_ starting to kick in, but instead of stumbling like I had earlier, I felt like it was actually fueling my movements, and soon, Reilly and I were dancing circles around everyone else.

The patrons of the pub cheered us on as Reilly and I beamed at one another, a hearty laugh falling from my lips as I felt the soft cotton of the dress swoosh around my ankles. Reilly's arm snaked tight around my waist, holding me against him as we danced, his own laughter low and resonating as it rumbled through his chest. Even Nora had come out to watch, and every time Reilly twirled me in that direction, I could see her clapping along with everyone else as she leaned one way and then the other to the beat of Porter's fiddle.

When the song ended, my cheeks were hot and I was a bit breathless. My heart thudded against my chest, and I could feel Reilly's heartbeat keeping the same pace. While his arm loosened around my waist, he didn't completely let go, which only made me blush harder.

I looked over the applauding crowd and smiled. Until my eyes fell on Hook.

He seemed to be brooding, his brows furrowed slightly as if he was trying to figure out a puzzle. His lips were pressed in a hard line, his strong jaw clenching as his eyes flicked from me to Reilly and then back to me, his arms crossed.

 _He's jealous,_ I thought, and the idea pleased me more than I'd ever admit.

Marie stood to his side and slightly behind, her glare deadly.

They were _both_ jealous. That was even better!

"You're quite the dancer, miss!" Reilly exclaimed, finally having caught his breath.

I turned my eyes to his and smiled. "It's easier when you have a partner who knows what they're-"

And then I saw her. Over Reilly's shoulder, standing outside the pub, peering in the window. Honey eyes and blonde curls.

Tink.


	19. Chapter 19

"Holly?"

Reilly's voice sounded far away. The rest of the pub seemed to be completely unaware of the evasive girl standing just outside as Porter eased into another jig and more people took to the make-shift dance floor.

"Would you excuse me for a quick moment?" I asked, my eyes finally flicking to Reilly's. He seemed puzzled, but relaxed a bit when I finally met his eyes.

"Of course," he said with a smile, but I was pushing past him before the words were even out of his mouth.

I felt panic rise in me when I saw that Tink was no longer standing at the window.

While most of the pub's occupants moved aside to let me pass, some stood firm, not wanting to lose their spot on the outer edges of the dance ring near the fresh air that seemed to leak up from beneath the door.

When I finally stumbled out onto the cobblestone street, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye to my left. I turned in time to see Tink reach the top of the road and turn to look back at me.

"Tink!" I shouted over the buzz of the pub as I started to run to meet her. But she didn't wait for me. Instead, she continued on her way, disappearing down the trail and out of sight. "Tink!" I cried, frustrated, but there was no answer.

I came to a halt then, feeling hurt and confused. Why didn't she stop? Surly she heard me? She had to have heard me.

"Holly! Holly, stop!"

I turned to find Hook jogging up the road towards me, his gait steady despite his excessive drinking. Marie was no where in sight, and while I usually would have felt smug, I felt irritated. Now was not the time for Hook to be bothering me.

But I let him catch up to me because I was sure that if I kept running that he'd follow me until I had no-where else to run. He was stubborn that way.

Even with the slope of the road, Hook was still taller than me, and when he finally reached me, he looked straight in the eye, his eyes searching. His chest rose and fell as he tried to catch his breath, his cheeks slightly flushed from the ale and the sudden burst of physical exertion.

"Holly, what in the bloody hell are you doing?" He didn't sound mad, just curious, but I knew that the moment I told him what I _was_ doing, he'd go back to being angry with me.

And while I loved getting under his skin, the topic of Tink and how that seemed to make him feel was obviously off limits.

And since I couldn't tell him the truth, that left me with nothing to say.

So I shrugged.

Hook's eyebrows shot up in disbelief, and he seemed to be waiting patiently for a _real_ answer, but once again, I didn't have one. After several long moments of us staring down one another, his eyebrows dropped and his mouth quirked in one corner, and he looked concerned.

"Are you alright?" he asked, watching me carefully. He scanned me up and down, but not with his usual flirtatious smirk, and I kept reminding myself not to shift.

 _There's nothing wrong,_ I kept insisting in my mind, part of me hoping he could read my thoughts. _There's nothing wrong._

 _Except that I just saw Tink for the first time since you told me she was_ dead _and now I'm not sure if I need to follow her or let her go._

The thought made my gut twist and I felt as though I was going to be sick, all the ale and food coming up and spilling unceremoniously onto the cobblestone at my feet.

If Tink _is_ dead, then what in the world does that make me? Crazy?

No. No, I _wasn't_ crazy!

And then, without giving Hook his answer, I spun and ran, my need to know the truth far outweighing any consequence of ignoring Hook or making him angry. I mean, how much more could he possibly hate me?

"Holly!" Hook bellowed, but I didn't look back. I kept my eyes on the spot where Tink had disappeared.

"I need to know!" I shouted, the words coming out in a rush between the gulps of air. I could hear his boots hitting the stone behind me, and I pushed myself to run harder.

"Know what? Holly, what are you-?" He didn't finish his question, and I didn't answer. I heard him swear as my feet hit the dirt of the trail, and then again right before I heard him let out an _oomph,_ the sound of his body hitting the ground making me cringe inwardly.

Shadows far outweighed the amount of sunlight in the trees now, so I had to be extra careful not to run off the trail.

When I came to the fork in the trail that would either take me to the springs or to the well, I skidded to a stop. My lungs burned as gulped down mouthfuls of air, my entire body feeling as though it was on fire while I tried to figure out which way to go.

Besides my heavy breathing and the muffled sound of the spring's running water, all was quiet. I no longer heard Hook's footsteps or his cursing, so I allowed myself a few more seconds of deep breathing before veering to the right and towards the well. If I was Tink, I would be there, although I wasn't really sure why.

I reached the clearing just as the last rays of sun vanished and the moon finally made its appearance in the black velvet sky.

And there was Tink, leaning against the edge of the well, with her honey colored eyes cast upward. The moon painted her the color of porcelain, and her cream gown glowed softly.

She looked like a ghost.

The thought made me pause at the edge of the tree line, goosebumps rising on my skin as I kept my eyes locked on her, as if at any moment, she would vanish.

"I've always loved the way the sky looks at night," she said suddenly, her soprano voice filling the clearing, floating momentarily in the air before vanishing and silence filled the air again.

Although I didn't say anything, my eyes involuntarily floated up, and I could see why Tink had said that.

The night sky was filled with countless, twinkling stars; so many of them that I was sure that they could light up theisland enough by themselves without the help of the moon. Some twinkled silver while others looked like gold. Clusters of pure white light were sprinkled across all of this, making patches of the sky seem more amethyst than black.

There was nothing like it in Mystasia; there was always too much light coming from the castle, the city, and the docks. I never thought I had been missing anything because the stars I _could_ see were nothing more than pinpricks of grey in a stark black sky, but _this… This_ was enough to make me forget everything.

Almost.

When I brought my eyes back to Tink, she was already watching me, a gentle smile on her lips and a bit of the same sadness in her eyes that had been there earlier when she had talked about Pan and the pleasure he took in destroying her people.

But even though she looked sad, I couldn't help but feel a tinge of anger.

Before I even opened my mouth to spill everything I was thinking Tink spoke.

"You're angry with me." She didn't sound angry or hurt, but rather as though she was expecting it.

Her bluntness caught me off guard, and all I could do was nod.

"You believe I've been hiding from you; keeping something from you." Again, she didn't seem angry or hurt. She was just stating facts.

"Are you?" I asked, my throat suddenly feeling tight, as if my own body didn't want to know the answer. I took a step into the clearing, trying my best not to seem defensive or as suspicious as I felt.

I sensed her hesitation. Her eyes dropped down to her hands, which were twisting together in knots before untying themselves and retying them again. Her face was scrunched up as if she was thinking hard about her answer, as if a simple _yes_ or _no_ wouldn't suffice.

Then, after several long moments of tense silence, Tink's face relaxed, her features back to being smooth porcelain as she looked up at me with pleading eyes. "Holly-"

" _Are you?"_ My voice broke, making me sound more desperate than angry, and that only made me more angry. I felt the familiar sting of tears behind my eyes and blinked hard to keep them from appearing. I was so sick of feeling like I was on the verge of tears, on the verge of completely losing my composure in front of these people who I hardly knew.

I stopped halfway between the tree line and where Tink stood, unable to take another step closer. My entire body was shaking in my attempt to keep calm, but it was difficult. It felt as though at any moment that my knees would buckle and I would collapse, unable to hold back as I screamed; screamed for the truth, some decent honesty, and to go home, to wake up from this nightmare.

Tink didn't answer right away, but instead of exploding in anger, I felt a cool wave of calm wash over me. I still trembled like a leaf, but the ground felt solid beneath my feet and my mind didn't spin so fast.

"Hook told me that you were dead." The words came out calm and even. "He said that you've been dead for _years."_

Tink's expression didn't give anything away. She didn't flinch or look away or shift uncomfortably. She kept her face blank, her hands folded neatly in front of her as she listened to me.

"He was so angry with me when I told him that you sent me to find him here," I continued, motioning to the well and the clearing. "And I couldn't understand why because I had just _seen_ you, felt you brush my hair and hug me and hold my hands as you comforted me."

My grip was slipping again, my voice rising as I spoke. "But he was so insistent that you were dead, that I was being cruel by bringing you up to him, that I questioned my own sanity! I didn't know _what_ to believe! And when I went to find you, to prove to him that I wasn't a _liar,_ you were _nowhere_ to be found! And _then,_ " I took a deep breath to reign in my anger, "you show up outside the pub, _in plain sight,_ and then take off before I even have a chance to ask you what in the world is going on!"

When I was done raving, I clamped my mouth shut, clenching my jaw so tight that it hurt. I took deep breaths through my nose, but each intake only fanned the flame in my chest, the persistent pulse of anger hammering in my ears.

Tink let out a shuddering breath, a frown cracking the calm mask that she had been hiding behind. Then, she stood slowly, bringing herself to her full height, but her shoulders were sunken and defeated. Then, she turned so her back was to me, but not before I caught a glimpse of the pained look on her face, her eyes clouded with tears.

"I told you that it took all of my magic to put the veil that protects this island in place," she said, her voice quivering as she tried to hold back tears, "and that if I ever left, the veil would go with me. So I stayed."

I nodded, despite the fact that she couldn't see me.

"For a faerie to give up all of its magic…" Tink hiccuped, her shoulders shaking, and I imagined that the tears were spilling now. Her fists clenched at her sides as she looked up at the sky again, taking a breath to calm herself, and I felt my anger ebbing away, replaced with the desire to comfort her as she had comforted me earlier. But I stayed put, determined to get my answers.

"For a faerie to give up all of its magic," she said again, each word measured as she held back a sob, "especially if it is to _protect_ something… to protect someone… It is the greatest sacrifice. But…" Tink took another shuddering breath, but I held mine. The next words were too important to miss, too heavy.

"But?" I prodded, the question coming out breathy.

Tink turned to look at me now, the moon reflecting off of her tear-stained face and her broken expression. "But it's a death sentence."

Her words plowed into me, knocking the breath out of me as we stood there facing each other. Tink was now openly sobbing, more tears falling from her eyes and staining her cheeks, neck, and chest, and I stood still as a statue, unable to say anything at all because nothing I could have said would have made the situation make any sort of sense.

Tink was dead, just as Hook had said, and yet she was standing in front of me like some sort of…

What? A ghost?

"I have been on this island for so long, Holly," Tink whimpered as she wiped at her tears with the sleeve of her cream grown, "and I thought…" She sighed then, clearly frustrated as she shrugged. "I don't know. I thought that if you could finally convince Thomas to go after Pan and beat him once and for all that I could finally move on, finally let go and go to the Ever After. Then I could be with my people; my friends and my family."

Her words hit hard, harder than the news of her being dead. She was tired, I could see that now. Her once bright honey eyes seemed dull and each choked sob sounded as though it had been living in her chest for a long, long time. All she wanted was to leave this place and to be with the people she loved.

We wanted the same thing.

And there was only one person keeping us from being able to do so.

Peter Pan.

With my anger now squelched by a new understanding, I took a delicate step towards Tink, (I would be lying if I said I wasn't still a little uncomfortable with her death-but-still-standing status), and said the first thing that came to mind.

"You said that you thought I could convince Hook to go after Peter Pan and beat him once and for all…" Tink sniffled and nodded, wiping at another tear. "So does that mean that you've tried to convince him before and he didn't want to?"

Tink shook her head. "I'm dead, remember?"

"Yes, but does he know that you're still…" I motioned with my hands, trying to figure out what to call Tink's… condition.

"Haunting the island?" I know she meant it to be a joke, but her words were sarcastic and bitter.

I shrugged, not wanting to upset her with a nod. "Sure."

Tink shook her head again. "No, he doesn't. He just-"

"Sees you in dreams."

Tink and I both startled, and I turned just in time to see Hook stepping out into the clearing, a carefully sculpted, emotionless look on his face.

"Hello, Tink."


	20. Chapter 20

"You've been here the entire time." Hook's voice was calm, but the accusation was as clear as though he had shouted it.

He only stood a few feet away now, but he hadn't spared me a glance since he entered the clearing. He kept his gaze on Tink, as if she would disappear if he looked away, leaving me to watch their reunion in nervous silence.

Tink looked as nervous as I felt, and when her eyes flickered over to mine to give me a pleading help-me-out-here look, Hook's calm began to erode.

"No tag teaming!" he snapped, pointing his hook in my direction and finally shooting a glare my way. Then he whirled back on Tink. "You didn't even have the decency to tell _her_ the truth, so why should she come to your aide now?"

Tink tensed, her heads clenching at her sides as her gaze became just as dangerous as Hook's.

"Thomas-" Tink began, her voice quivering as she tried to keep her tone composed, but Hook wasn't done.

"Don't. Just… don't." He took a deep breath through his nose before letting his shoulders slump. He looked utterly exhausted. "Do you have _any_ idea what this is doing to me? What _all_ of this is doing to me?" He paused, waiting for Tink to interrupt again. She didn't.

Silence stretched as Hook rubbed a hand back and forth over his mouth and jaw, his eyes finally falling from Tink and onto the ground between them.

"Nora thinks I'm a raving lunatic; thinks that seeing you in my dreams is a sign of me going mad." He chuckled then, the sound forced and dry and without a shade of humor. "Do you know what that's like? To be absolutely sure that you're _not_ crazy, but everyone else is absolutely sure that you _are?_ "

"I didn't do it to make you look crazy, Thomas," Tink answered, but if Hook heard her, he didn't show it.

"She's at her wit's end with me," he said. His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, and I wondered if Tink could hear him from where she stood. And I wondered if he even remembered that I was standing right next to him, listening. "She keeps telling me that I can't keep going off when you tell me to do so. She says it's going to get me killed one of these days."

Nora and Hook's argument from earlier started to come back to me. Had it really only been earlier this afternoon? It felt like forever ago.

 _"Thomas, you can't keep doing this!"_ she had scolded him. But Hook insisted that Tink hadn't been wrong about me needing help.

That was before I knew that Tink was dead. It was amazing how one seemingly small detail complicated things so much.

"I would _never_ have told you about Holly needing help if I didn't think it was important!" Tink's voice was defensive, sadness laced just beneath the surface.

"Then go tell her that! Go prove that I'm not losing my mind!"

Tink's face fell. "I can't."

Hook's eyes clouded over with rage. "Why not?" he asked through gritted teeth. "You owe me that Tink! You owe-"

"I don't owe you _anything!"_ Tink shrieked, and I instinctively took a half step back. She took a few steps away from the well, her fists clenched as she closed some of the distance between her and Hook, her eyes blazing and her cheeks flushed rosy pink. "I don't owe any of you anything!"

Hook's eyebrows shot up and he barked a laugh as if what she had just said was absurd, but it only riled Tink up even more.

"I've been stuck on this island for a century, Thomas. I'm tired."

"Oh, _you're_ tired?" Hook spat, and I watched Tink's fists twitch. From the daggers she was shooting at him with her eyes, I was sure she was going to hit him.

"Yes," she clipped, " _I'm_ tired. But as long as Pan and the Lost Boys are running rampant, I have to stay here!"

"And what do you suggest we do about that, Tink?" he hissed, and I took another step back. The tension was beginning to be too much. I could feel it crackling in the air like lightening before it strikes. One of them was going to explode, and then all hell would break loose. And I wasn't sure I wanted to be caught in the cross fire.

Tink straightened, leveling her gaze with Hook as best she could despite being a head shorter than he was. "I suggest we beat Pan once and for all," she stated proudly, her voice confident. "Just like we should have all those years ago."

Hook had no retort. His jaw was clenched tight and his nostrils were flared as he took deep, even breaths.

My eyes darted between them, but the more they spoke, the more unsure I was about what all of this had to do with me and why I was here on the island.

"I know it's been hard," Tink said, interrupting my thoughts, her voice softening as she attempted to be gentle, although her eyes held the same steely gleam. Slowly, she uncurled her fingers and let them hang at her sides and her eyebrows relaxed so she didn't look so hostile, but Hook's hard demeanor didn't budge. He just shook his head and carded his hand through his hair, staring off into the woods to his right.

The urge to reach out and touch him flooded through me, but he was still angry, and I wasn't sure I knew exactly how deep that anger ran.

When he finally did speak, he didn't look away from his spot in the woods. "We can't beat Pan, Tink. We couldn't back then, and we can't now."

"Thomas—"

"Didn't you hear me?" he shouted. "I said no! I won't risk anymore lives. We've lost enough friends over the years trying to find his weak spots, don't you think?"

They shared a look then, a silent conversation passing between them that I'm sure I had no right to be a part of. They both looked so sad, years of grief and sadness reflected in their eyes as they both waited for the other to speak.

 _At least a century of grief,_ I reminded myself, if what Tink said was true.

I couldn't even begin to wrap my head around the fact that Tinkerbelle and Hook were at least a century old, so I shoved the idea away and decided to ask about it later.

Finally, Hook spoke. "He's too powerful, Tink."

I spoke up then, unable to keep quiet anymore.

"I thought you said that you and your crew were the only ones strong enough to put up a fight against Pan and the Lost Boys? That's what you told my father."

His eyes darted up to meet mine, a look of surprise flashing across his face as if he had forgotten i was even there, and I felt my stomach sink as I saw the familiar gleam of uncertainty in his gaze.

"We _can_ put up a fight," he assured me, "but that doesn't mean we can beat him. Both sides are always a bloody mess by the time the fighting's done, but never enough to tip the scales one way or another."

A frown pulled at the corners of Tink's mouth, and I could tell she wanted to speak, but she was weighing her words carefully.

"There was one thing we never tried…" she whispered, and I wondered if what she said was more her thinking out loud than actually suggesting something.

The embers in Hook's eyes flared dangerously as her words fell on his ears.

"Absolutely not," he growled.

"Why not?" Think shouted, her patience slipping again. "Quit being a coward, Thomas, and just accept that everyone dies sometime! _Including you!"_

I expected him to lash out, to shout back at her like they had been, but Tink's words seemed to hit a soft spot because Hook tensed, his expression tight as he stared her down. His fist was clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white, and even beneath his coat, I could tell he was shaking.

"It's getting late," Tink stated coldly after a moment before glancing at me with sad eyes. "You two should go get some sleep. We can speak more another time." I nodded wordlessly, thankful to have an excuse to get away from all the unanswered questions and thick tension, but Hook didn't move.

Slowly, Tink reached up with one hand and cupped Hook's cheek. He didn't lean into it like he did with Marie earlier in the pub, but he didn't pull away either, which surprised me. I had expected him to snatch away after all the arguing, but it seemed that Hook was at the end of his rope.

His eyes had returned to staring at the ground between them as Tink's yellow eyes searched his face.

"I'm sorry, Thomas," she whispered before she leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him softly on his other cheek. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

Silence.

"Come find me when you're ready," she said before finally pulling away from Hook. And then, just like that, she was gone again, leaving Hook and I standing in the clearing alone.

After a few more heartbeats of quiet, Hook slowly turned to look at me. "I promise I'll never drink again if you tell me this has all just been a bad dream."

I knew he was probably trying to be humorous in order to cover up the hurt that was obvious in his voice and behind his eyes, but the exhaustion that had set heavily into my bones made it impossible to try and attempt a laugh.

We stared at each other for a while, neither of us saying anything. Then, Hook ran his hand over his face and groaned. "We're in quite the mess, aren't we love?"

"It sure seems that way," I replied softly, one side of my mouth twitching up despite my exhaustion.

Without another word, we made our way out of the clearing and back towards town, the moon high in the sky as it lit our path through the trees. We walked side by side, the narrow trail making it difficult not to brush up against each other from time to time, but neither of us made an attempt to walk single file, so I figured it didn't bother him either.

We walked in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts as the dirt, leaves, and sticks crunched beneath our feet.

My mind wandered as we walked. I thought about the day Hook was brought to the throne room and about the strength he exhibited when the guard had been unnecessarily rough. I thought about him telling my father that he and his crew were the only ones who stood a chance against Pan…

And how it hadn't exactly been the truth.

And if Hook and his crew couldn't beat Pan, then was there really any chance that I would ever be safe?

The streets were empty and quiet as we wound our way through town. Once in a while, we would pass a home or a shop that still had a candle or two lit, but as we passed, some of them were blown out as the owner finally made their way to bed.

I wasn't sure where we were going, but I continued to follow Hook, sure that he was going to take me where I needed to be.

We ended up back at the building that looked a lot like an inn where the men had been sitting out playing cards and dice. Most of the rooms were dark, but again, there were a few candles, signaling that some guests hadn't quite found their way to their beds yet.

Hook held the door open for me and bowed slightly, which made me smile despite everything else I was feeling. His gaze was distant, his thoughts far away, but I was certain he wasn't angry at me anymore. The thought alone helped relax the knot that had been forming in my stomach since our argument earlier on in the day.

The front room looked like a large living room. Worn, overstuffed chairs and sofas decorated the place, as well as low tables to play cards and dice. There was even a fire place on one wall, the fire burning low as not to overheat the place but to help keep the chilly night air away.

Opposite of the door we just walked in was a desk, and behind the desk was a man who was leaning back in his chair with his feet kicked up and his cap pulled over his eyes. He snored steadily, and I was amazed he hadn't kept anyone awake. Then I remembered the few candles still lit in the rooms above and smiled again. Maybe he had.

Hook brought a finger to his lips as he reached behind the counter and pulled out two sets of keys, each one dangling from his hook. He handed one set to me and motioned to the open doorway to the left of the desk. A staircase stood there, waiting to take us up to our rooms. As quietly as we could, we made our way upstairs, cringing at the occasional groan of the old steps.

We both stopped outside our rooms and realized that we would be staying across the hall from each other. Part of me was relieved at knowing that he was going to be so close.

I was about to step inside when I felt Hook's hand on my elbow. I turned to see him staring down at me through thick lashes, and I felt my heartbeat speed up. I swallowed, hoping he couldn't sense my nervous state.

"I'll be just across the hall," he whispered and nodded back towards his door. "If you need anything…"

Not trusting my words, I nodded.

He stared at me for a while, his eyes searching again with the same uncertainty he had shown when I had first found him at the well; before I had ruined everything with the news of Tink.

My stomach fluttered as he watched me, and I had to cheer myself on to keep eye contact.

"Goodnight, Holly," he finally said, his voice low. His hand dropped from my elbow, and he turned to unlock his own door.

He stepped inside, not looking back, and before I could think better of it, I blurted, "I'm sorry."

Hook turned, his eyebrows furrowed as he leaned against the door frame. "Sorry? What are you sorry for?"

Part of me panicked. It wasn't as though I was admitting fault for anything; I just felt terrible that he seemed so torn. So much had happened to him over the past few days, some of which seemed to turn his world upside down.

I knew how that felt, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

Not even Hook.

"Everything," I said simply, hoping that maybe he would understand.

His brows relaxed as he locked eyes with me again, but his gaze still seemed far away, as if he was looking through me instead of at me. Eventually though, he came back to himself and gave me a sad smile.

"Don't be sorry, love. This whole mess is all a part of who I am."

Then, without any further explanation, he gently closed the door, a soft _click_ sealing him in his room and leaving me to ponder what he meant alone.


	21. Chapter 21

**Warning: This is a very dark chapter. As you've probably figured out by now, Peter Pan (at least in this story) is not the good guy. He is dangerous, he is dark, and he is anything but gentle. The following chapter contains physical violence. With that being said, if it is something you don't think you can handle, please do not read it. Thank you! ~ Miss Faery**

At first, I didn't open my eyes. The bed was soft and warm and seemed to caress me in all the right ways. A small smile quirked on my lips as I rolled over onto my back and stretched my arms above my head, reveling in the feeling of my muscles stretching and wringing the sleepiness from my entire body.

I sighed, content with how rested I felt, and let my eyes flutter open.

Only to find myself staring up at a very familiar canopy that hung above a very familiar four-post bed.

A sudden surge of energy washed through me and I bolted straight up in bed. I was home in Mystasia. I was in my room and in my bed.

But by the looks of my room, something wasn't right.

My wooden wardrobe and the heavy wooden chest that used to sit at the foot of my bed had been moved and was now sitting in front of my door as some sort of barricade. Some of the clothes must have fallen out during the move, or someone threw them out to make it easier to move the furniture because many of my dresses were scattered along the floor in disarray.

To my left, I noticed that someone had shut the windows leading out to my balcony, a sword pushed through the handles in order to keep them closed, and to keep anything that may be on the balcony outside.

I felt my heart race in my chest, rapidly pumping adrenaline through my veins as I tried to figure out what could possibly be trying to get inside my room through the balcony window.

Shards of glass that once belonged to my wash basin peppered the floor, the sunlight reflecting off of them like bits of starlight.

Then, my eye landed on what I thought was another heap of dresses on the floor.

And I felt my stomach drop.

I slid out of bed and onto the floor, crawling as quickly as I could to the heap on the floor, careful not to place my hand on a waiting pile of glass. My breath was coming faster now, tears springing to my eyes when I reached out to touch the mottled skin of her hand and realized it felt like ice.

"No. No, no, no," I whispered to myself as I grabbed her shoulder and rolled her towards me. She was heavy and stiff and my muscles protested, but I ignored it as best I could and pulled until her body finally tilted and rolled over so she was looking up at me.

My hand flew to my mouth as I gasped, a choked sob escaping me as I began to shake my head.

 _No, no, no!_

I hadn't known Leoma very well. In fact, I hardly knew her at all, but she had been so kind to me and she had seemed so excited to be my chamber maid. She was a good woman, a woman dedicated to serving my family in any way she could.

Now, she stared up at me with lifeless eyes that were clouded and milky white. Her mouth hung open as if she had been gasping for air, and dried vomit spilled from one corner of her mouth.

"Leo?" I whispered as tears spilled down my face. I shook her slightly, as if doing so would wake her up. I could almost see her blinking away the milky white and closing her mouth as she attempted to moisten it. I could see her taking in a deep breath and telling me she had only been napping.

Except she didn't even look like she was sleeping. She looked very dead; the kind of death that was ugly and had probably been painful, if her screwed up facial expression was any indication.

Both of her hands were curled into tight fists against her stomach, and in her right hand, I noticed something. I leaned down to get a better look.

In her death grip, she held a small vile.

I had seen that type of vile before, but I had never gone near it. I had kept it hidden at the very bottom of my chest, determined to keep it as far away from me as I possibly could.

The vile had once held poison and I had been instructed, even from a young age, that should something ever happen and we were in danger of being captured and tortured, that should the kingdom ever fall, that I was to lay in bed and drink the poison. My father had always assured me that it would be painless, but he had been wrong.

I stood suddenly, the room feeling too small, and I made my way to the door, only to be blocked by my wardrobe and chest. I began crying again and throwing myself against the side of the wardrobe in a feeble attempt to get it to budge, but to no avail.

"Do be careful, sweetheart," came a voice that stopped me cold.

When I whirled around, Peter was only inches from me, causing me to startle and stumble backwards into the side of the wardrobe, the back of my head hitting the wood hard enough to make me dizzy.

He only chuckled, his green eyes swirling with a mixture of amusement and malice.

He took a step closer, pinning me between his chest and the wardrobe. I was frozen, unable to make myself move away from him in fear that he would just pull me back.

As if he could read my mind, Peter snaked one arm around my waist and pulled me tighter against him, his other hand coming up to cup my cheek.

"I've missed you," he crooned in my ear, his lips brushing against the spot just below my earlobe. It made me shiver, a sick feeling settling in my gut as he pressed his lips more firmly against my skin. I tried to keep my breathing even, but it hitched when Peter's teeth grazed against the pulse point on my neck. Instinctively, I tried to flinch away, but Peter held me firm. I felt his tongue trace a line slowly down the side of my neck before lightly sucking on the curve of my skin where my neck met my shoulder.

Hot, shameful tears leaked down my face as Peter sucked harder. I tried to stay quiet, to not give myself away too much, but I couldn't keep my body from shaking or keep the blubbering whimper that slipped through my lips as I felt every bit of control slipping through my fingers.

Finally, after what seemed like eternity, Peter's lips left my skin and were back up at my ear. "Where have you been hiding?" he breathed, his breath hot against my cheek.

I took a shaky breath as Peter pulled back and tried to get a good look at my face, but I didn't meet his eyes. Instead, I kept them glued to an area on the wall behind Peter, determined to keep my mouth shut as a blurry memory tried to push itself to the surface.

An island. A small town just off the beach. Cobblestone streets.

A growl escaped Peter. "I said-" he roughly pinched my chin and made me turn my head to face him, "-Where have you been hiding?"

The dark shadow began to spread through his eyes and across his face, turning an already angry Peter into a dangerous creature. I felt my stomach drop as he dropped my chin and took a half-step back away from me, but before I could retreat, Peter's hand flashed out and struck me hard across my left cheek.

The strike sent me stumbling sideways and seeing stars, and I couldn't help but cry out from the pain. To make the whole situation worse, I tripped over my own feet and sent myself to the floor. In an attempt to catch myself, I put out my right hand, only to have a sharp pain shoot up my wrist to my elbow.

"I hate it when you can't talk to me, sweetheart. It makes me have to do things I don't want to do."

I could hear his feather light footsteps on the stone floor, so I tried to crawl in the opposite direction. I didn't get far before I felt his fingers tangle in my hair and yank me to my feet.

I screamed as I felt some of my hair being ripped from my scalp, but that seemed to only make Peter more angry.

"Quit screaming," he hissed as he pulled me close again, but now that my body felt threatened, it was as if it had a mind of its own. I put both my hands on his chest and tried my best to shove him away, but it was like pushing at a wall, and with his hand still tangled in my hair it was impossible to move. I let out a frustrated shout and hit his chest again, ignoring the throbbing in my right wrist as I did so.

His free hand wrapped itself around my throbbing wrist, his fingers digging into the soft underpart of my arm as he pressed down on a pressure point. I screamed again, white hot pain shooting all the way up to my shoulder as I collapsed to my knees. Instead of yanking me to my feet again though, Peter followed me to the floor, kneeling in front of me with a wicked grin pulling at one edge of his mouth.

"If you'd quit trying to get away from me, maybe you wouldn't hurt so much." The way he said it made it sound like he was scolding a child, which only made me more angry.

Before I could think about the consequences, I spit at Peter and hit him just under his right eye.

I froze, horror filling me as I realized what I had just done.

Peter froze too. The shadow that seemed to be swirling across him darkened and settled, his fiery red hair now a deep copper and his green eyes almost black as he slowly let go of my wrist and wiped under his eye.

Then, slowly, his fingers curled tightly into a fist.

"I-I-I'm sorry, Peter," I stammered as his knuckles turned white. "P-Please. I'm s-sorr-"

But his fist was already flying forward, and with his other hand still tangled in my hair, there was no where for me to run. I didn't even have time to put up my hands to try and guard my face.

Everything felt as though it happened in slow motion. I felt his knuckles on my lips and nose and my teeth pressing harshly against my lips. Then I felt the skin breaking and blood filling my mouth. Something in my nose felt like it tore and soon I could feel blood flowing from it too.

Then the pain started. The sting from my teeth going through the skin of my lips and the ache in my jaw and the throbbing from the tip of my nose to right between my eyes; it all hurt. It hurt so much that I couldn't even bring myself to scream. All I could manage was the tears that now streamed down my face, blending with the blood as it pooled into my hands, as if doing so would make it stop any faster.

Peter's hand finally left my hair, and I let myself fall to the floor, curled up on my side as I began to sob.

But Peter wasn't finished. He stepped over me silently and peered down at me with dark eyes. Then, he brought back his foot and kicked. _Hard._

Peter's foot hit my stomach with so much force that it knocked the wind out of me. I curled in tighter as the fiery pain blossomed in my gut. I felt like I was going to be sick, but no matter how much I heaved, nothing came. I gasped for air, but it only seemed to fan the flame, so I tried taking small breaths through my nose, only to be reminded that blood was currently gushing out of my nose. Nothing eased the pain.

I didn't see Peter reel back again, so I didn't have time to try and shield myself. His foot connected again, and I screamed.

How I ever found the strength to roll to my other side, I will never know, but that didn't deter Peter. In fact, it seemed to egg him on. He brought back his foot again and brought it forward, and it landed in the small of back. This time, the pain was like lightening, shooting up to my neck and down to my toes. I cried out again, the sobs coming harder as I willed myself to move, but no matter how much I begged my body to move, it wouldn't.

Peter was breathing hard, his breath hissing from between his teeth, and when I looked over my shoulder, blood spilling from my nose and mouth, his face and neck were flushed red with anger. He brought back his foot again, and the glint in his eyes told me that he didn't plan to stop.

But I didn't know how much I could take.

"P-Peter, please," I begged, tasting the coppery taste of blood on my tongue. "P-Please stop! Please!" A sob wracked through my body, making everything that already hurt, hurt worse. "I'm sorry, Peter! Please stop!"

Time seemed to freeze in that moment as my begging reached Peter's ears. The murderous glint in his eye remained, but I swear I saw it dim. Then, he slowly brought his foot back down to the floor, his fists uncurling and the shadow that plagued him receded slightly. His hair was still copper, and his eyes still dark, but I took the shadows receding as a good sign.

Tears continued to fall as I waited for Peter to change his mind. The tears mixed with blood that fell onto my dress, staining it. I tried wiping at the tears and the blood, only to have the tips of my fingers come back red. I stared at them, my hands suddenly clammy and shaking and my stomach churning with all the blood I was swallowing.

He stared down at me for a long while, his expression unreadable. I longed to sit up, but I worried what he would do if I did, so I stayed down.

Peter's eyes darted from my face to my hands and then back up to my face. The longer he looked at me, the more the shadow receded, and after a few moments, I was staring up at a fiery haired, green eyed Peter.

He heaved a sigh before kneeling in front of me, his hands reaching out to me. Instinctively, I flinched away. Peter paused and, for a moment, I saw the murderous glint return to his eyes.

But instead of lashing out, Peter shut his eyes for a long moment, took a deep breath, and opened his eyes again, the glint nowhere in sight.

"Sit up," he ordered, and although his voice was soft, there was no mistaking the authority in his voice. He was in charge, and I was to behave.

I struggled to sit up on my own, and I worried what Peter would do if I didn't do what I was told. I started crying again, doubling my efforts to get up.

"Here," Peter said softly, slipping an arm around my waist and the other under my left arm. Slowly, he helped me sit up. I took in a sharp breath as my body protested, whimpering as the pain intensified in my stomach and lower back.

I screamed when Peter scooped me up in his arms, the pain almost too much. My vision blurred around the edges as the pain threatened to pull me under.

I wish it had.

"Deep breaths, sweetheart. Take deep breaths." Peter's voice rumbled in my ears from where I rested my head against his chest.

Gently, Peter placed me back on my bad, most of the pain subsiding as I finally settled into a comfortable position on my back. I closed my eyes, grateful for the slight comfort of my bed.

"Here, take this."

I opened my eyes to see Peter sitting on my right with a cloth in his hand, held out to me. I stared at it for a moment before glancing back up at him. "It's for your nose," he explained as he pressed it into my right hand. I flinched and Peter did the same. "Sorry," he apologized, seeming to remember that my right wrist was the injured one. Why he cared, I wasn't sure.

His entire attitude change was dizzying, but I took the cloth and dabbed at my nose and lip. Most of the blood was beginning to clot, and my nose had stopped bleeding all together, so I was careful just to wipe away the excess blood on my upper lip, my chin, and my cheeks.

Peter watched me carefully the entire time, but I tried to avert my gaze as much as possible. Every time my eyes landed on his, I felt sick with fear.

After a while, I knew that there wasn't any more blood to blot away, so I set the now pink and red blotted cloth down, my eyes lingering on Leo's body. Hot tears pricked at my eyes again, and I had to take a deep breath to keep from crying again.

I jolted when I felt Peter's hands on either side of my face.

"Shhh, it's okay," he tried to assure me, but every nerve in my body screamed at me that Peter's touch was anything _but_ okay. My heart was slamming against my chest, each hammering heartbeat felt in the tips of my fingers and my toes, causing my injuries to throb each time it beat. His thumbs brushed across my cheekbones as he leaned in closer.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed, his green eyes searching mine. I looked up at him in disbelief, and my tongue itched to spit at him again, but I had learned my lesson. "I'm so, so sorry," he repeated as leaned down close enough to brush his lips against mine. My fists, frozen at my sides, clenched in disgust, but Peter's hands held me firm, his lips pressing harder against mine.

I clenched my eyes shut, convincing myself that if I couldn't see him that the burning disgust and shame would subside slightly, but it didn't work.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he murmured against my lips. He pulled away then, and I allowed myself to open my eyes. The fingers of one hand traced the curve of my jaw, down my neck, and into my hair.

As I stared up at Peter, I watched his eyes change from concerned and soft to hard again. In the time it took me to blink, Peter had caught both my wrists in one hand and had pinned them above my head. The hand that had been playing with my hair came up to cup my cheek again as he moved to straddle my waist. My eyes darted away involuntarily, but with a small jerk of Peter's hand, I was staring up at him again, my breath coming quickly now as I felt the situation shifting dangerously.

"I'm sorry I had to hurt you, Holly," Peter said, his voice sounding anything but apologetic. "It's just… When you try to hide from me or you don't behave… It makes me so _angry."_

In the fleeting moment before my punishment began, I sent up a pleading prayer to whatever gods were listening.

 _Let me die. Please, just let me die._


	22. Chapter 22

I'm not sure how long I laid there curled up on my side, and I wasn't sure how long it had been since Peter had stopped his assault of pinching and twisting my skin, but with each minute that passed I kept waiting for something to set him off again.

My skin was an angry swirl of red and purple. I had stopped crying out because it had only spurred him on to pinch and hit me harder, but no amount of discipline could stop the tears and the mewling that had fallen from my lips, especially when he twisted the same bits of skin or hit the same spot over and over again.

" _I wouldn't have to do this if you would just behave,_ " he had hissed as he drove his fist into my ribs for the fifth time.

" _I can't believe you thought you could hide from me,_ " he had said with a bark of laughter as he twisted the sensitive skin next to my bellybutton. I couldn't help but scream that time as white hot spots of pain dotted my vision, but it was cut short when Peter slapped me hard across the cheek with the back of his hand.

This went on for what felt like hours.

I could sense him in the chair that he had pulled up next to bed, could feel his eyes on my back as I blinked hard at the new wave of tears that threatened to send me spiraling downward.

Besides my hammering heartbeat in my ears, all I could hear was Peter's steady breathing.

I froze when I heard the strain of the chair as Peter leaned forward.

"Holly?"

I let out a shuddering breath, unable to keep calm. He didn't _sound_ angry, but if I had learned anything, it was that Peter was unpredictable and his moods unstable.

"Holly, look at me." Again, he didn't sound angry, but under his gentle tone there was an authority that I knew I didn't want to defy.

I rolled over as quickly as I could without jostling my aching body too much, which proved to be impossible. I sucked in a sharp breath between gritted teeth, my skin, muscles, and bones screaming at me. I attempted to push myself up, but the pain was too much. I cried out, frustrated, embarrassed, and helpless.

"Here…" Peter's voice pierced through the cloud of pain, and before I knew it, his hands were on me again, but this time they were careful.

Gently, Peter's fingers wrapped around my arms and he pulled me quickly into a seating position, leaving the pain at a minimum. After making sure I was steady enough to sit up on my own, Peter's hands released my shoulders and cupped my hands instead, the only part of my body that seemed to not be on fire with pain.

We sat in silence for a moment, Peter's thumbs rubbing over the back of my hands in a steady rhythm as I tried to read his face.

When Peter's eyes rose to meet mine, there was no trace of shadow, only green. His eyes scanned my face, but the only thing I saw in his eyes was pity. No guilt for what he'd done, for the pain he'd caused. Just pity, as if I had actually done something to deserve the beating he had given me. The thought enraged me, and while I felt my blood boil, I tried to bury the anger away. I couldn't risk setting him off again. I wasn't sure I could face begging for relief only to be dragged back from the brink of it when Peter saw fit.

"I hope I never have to teach you that lesson again," Peter stated, his tone stern. "I hate to see you so upset."

I started shaking my head long before he finished his sentences. "You won't," I squeaked, unable to recognize my own voice. It quivered with fear, and I sounded utterly defeated.

Peter's gaze was hard. He arched an eyebrow. "Promise?"

I stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded at his question, but I nodded anyway. But a nod wasn't good enough for Peter. His grip on my hands tightened and he leaned closer.

"Say it," he demanded in a low and dangerous voice. "I want to hear you say it."

"I promise, Peter." It all came out in a rush, but I was too worried about giving him the answer he wanted in order to avoid getting hit again to care. "I promise you won't ever have to teach me that lesson again. I'll be good. I won't hide again, I swear! I—"

Peter shushed me, one hand coming up to wipe away at the tears that had started to spill on my cheeks and slide down the curve of my jaw and my neck.

"Such a good girl," he murmured to himself as he cupped my face in his hands again like he had so many times before. "Such a good little treasure." Then he leaned in and kissed me on the forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled back with a grin.

"Come walk with me," he said as he took my hands again and pulled me to my feet. My body protested, but I bit down on the pain as best I could in order to keep up with Peter's insistence.

I didn't ask where we were going. I was more concerned with how we were going to get there.

The wardrobe and the chest still sat firmly in front of my bedroom door, blocking our only way out of the room, but Peter seemed unconcerned.

With the hand that wasn't entwined with mine, Peter gave his fingers a snap, and I watched in awe as the wardrobe and chest seemed to blink back to their original places. I'm sure I would have been filled with awe if I didn't hurt so bad.

Peter glanced back at me with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I love that trick," he said with a wide grin. All I could manage was a nod before Peter led me out into the hall.

If I thought my room had been a mess, it was nothing compared to the state of the rest of the castle.

The tapestries and curtains were torn to shreds, most of them hanging like rags from whatever was holding them up. Some of the windows were shattered and glass peppered the floor just like it had in my room. And while there were no bodies visible, there were spots where a dried pool of blood could be seen, some of them smeared in a crude manner as if someone had half-heartedly tried to clean up the mess before finally leaving it alone.

My step faltered as Peter and I passed a long mirror along one of the walls that seemed to have escaped the wave of destruction that littered the rest of the castle.

Peter must have sensed my surprise because he stopped to look in the mirror himself, smirking at his reflection before his eyes slid to me.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he cooed, taking a step towards me and kissing me on the cheek. "Bruises fade."

The girl standing with Peter in the mirror was a stranger, and yet I knew her somehow. She had my cheekbones, but hers were puffy and bruised. She had my lips, but hers were split and swollen. She had my hair, but hers was disheveled and snarled from where Peter had knotted his fingers in it and pulled. She had the same curve of her neck, but hers were peppered with dark marks where Peter had bit and sucked at the skin.

Her eyes were red and puffy from crying and one strap of her dress was ripped and hung off her shoulder. Blood stained the front of the dress, and I couldn't help but wonder if whoever made the dress would be disappointed or upset.

Why couldn't I remember who made the dress?

A tug on my hand snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Come on," said Peter. "I want to show you something." The way he said it, as if he could hardly contain his excitement, made me nervous.

We wound our way through the castle, each hall more of a mess than the last, until we came to the doors of the throne room.

Peter let go of my hand and pushed the heavy wooden doors open, the wood groaning on its hinges as they inched open. I held my breath, unsure what to expect.

Images of my father flashed in front of my eyes, most of them bloody and gruesome, and I had to swallow the urge to throw up. My heart threw itself painfully against my ribs and my knees shook so bad that I wasn't sure they could carry me forward.

I watched as the doors swung open and Peter stepped into the throne room, his head high and his strut confident. I kept my eyes on him, afraid of what I'd see should I let my eyes wander.

Peter spun on his heel, a boyish grin on his lips as he held his arms out wide on either side of him.

"Come on in, sweetheart."

I forced my feet forward slowly, still keeping my eyes on Peter as he once again turned his back to me and walked farther into the room.

He took the stairs up to the thrones two at a time, and it was then that I noticed that the chairs were unchanged and unstained.

In fact, the entire throne room was untouched. The drapes on the tall windows were whole and none of the windows were broken and there were no half-cleaned blood stains in sight.

It was exactly how I remembered it.

"What do you think?"

I turned back to Peter and found him sitting on my father's throne, feet spread wide, his fingers curled over the edge of the armrests, and a proud smile on his face.

And atop his head sat my father's crown.

"It's a bit large," Peter sighed as he tried to adjust the crown crookedly on his brow, "but I like it."

I stared at him, unable to keep the anger from swelling in my belly. The crown didn't belong to him. It belonged to my father and if something had happened to my father, which I prayed nothing had, then the crown belonged to _me._

"Ready to go see everyone, sweetheart?" Peter asked as he stood, seeming completely unaware of my growing rage. He moved like a cat, each movement long and graceful. Peter stretched his arms high above his head and leaned back slightly, the crown tilting dangerously as he did so. He let out a long groan before bringing his hands back down to his sides and rolling his shoulders, the occasional _pop_ reaching my ears as his muscles and bones shifted.

"Everyone?" I echoed, and Peter's smile grew.

"Yes, Holly. Everyone. They're waiting for us outside." He descended the stairs and took both my hands in his before pulling me against him. "Don't you want to see everyone?" he whispered in my ear, and I shivered.

"Yes," I said, although I wasn't sure I did. I wasn't sure why the empty castle hadn't bothered me before, but now it did. I felt sick not knowing who was waiting for us outside.

But then I thought of my father and of John. If they were outside waiting for me, maybe things would be okay.

But what would they think when they saw me beaten and bruised? What would they think of me if I was standing side by side with Peter, his marks all over my body that showed everyone I was his?

Would they hate me? Pity me?

Peter led me back through the halls, but instead of making our way to the front doors like I had originally thought, Peter led me back upstairs and towards a balcony that I knew overlooked the courtyard.

When he pulled open the glass doors, I was bombarded with noise. A roar consisting of hundreds of voices rose to my ears and sent a shiver down my spine.

The voices sounded panicked; frightened.

And then it hit me: A putrid smell, worse than anything I had ever smelled before, and yet it was eerily familiar.

Numbly, I stepped out onto the balcony with Peter, the high afternoon sun temporarily blinding me as my eyes tried to adjust. I blinked several times, one hand rising up to try and block the sun as I felt Peter take my other hand in his.

The voices continued to blur together, but now, if I listened closely, I could hear bits and pieces.

A child crying for its father.

A woman screaming for her husband.

An older boy's voice telling them all to stand back and behave.

As the glare of the sun finally began to subside and I could finally see, I let my eyes fall down to the courtyard below.

And felt my stomach lurch.

Sure enough, the courtyard was full of panicked people, most of them swiveling their heads back and forth as they seemed to search the crowd. Several of Peter's Lost Boys made up a perimeter around the crowd, their weapons in hand as they waited for someone to act out, but most of the people seemed to be more focused on the pile of burning rubbish that sat several yards below where Peter and I stood, their eyes wide and their faces pale.

 _No, not rubbish,_ I thought as I peered closer and felt bile rising in my throat. _Bodies._

The putrid smell was that of flesh and hair being licked away by the flames. I had smelt it before during the occasional funeral, but those had only consisted of one body. This was that smell one hundred fold.

"Peter," I breathed, surpassing the gag that burned in the back of my throat. "What…?" I turned my wide-eyed gaze to him, only to find him staring down at the whole ordeal with a devilish smirk on his face.

I tried to pull my hand away, wanting anything but to be holding this monster's hand. There was no doubt in my mind that this whole thing was his idea.

"Most of your father's precious guards are in that pile," Peter stated smoothly without looking at me, as if the idea of burning bodies didn't phase him in the slightest. For goodness sake, he wasn't even crinkling his nose against the horrid smell!

My mind jumped to Harlan and Carlisle, and I wondered if maybe, by some miracle, if they had escaped.

"You see, Holly," Peter turned to me now, his grip tight on my hand, "when I returned to retrieve you, I was expecting you to come easily. No one else would have gotten hurt if you had, but you obviously didn't learn after those boys in Eastloche now did you?" His tone was mocking, and I could tell by the twinkle in his eyes that he was enjoying this.

It made me hate him even more.

"So," he turned his attention back to the pile of burning bodies, "to teach you a lesson, we'll start with the men of the city. Then the women." I felt my heart sink, but Peter wasn't finished. "Then, when all the grown-ups are gone and out of the way, we'll play a huge game of hide-and-seek with the children. The longer they can stay hidden from me and my Lost Boys, the longer they get to live."

"You can't!" I shouted, finally finding my voice.

"Oh, but I can!" Peter cooed as he brought my knuckles to his lips and kissed them lightly. "And just think…" he trailed off, leaning in close to my ear. "If you would have just behaved, this could have been avoided. This-" he turned my head so I would have too look out at the pile below, "-is all your fault."


	23. Chapter 23

I awoke with a start, shooting straight up in bed as I tried to calm my racing heart.

It had been another nightmare. Another too-realistic nightmare.

I untangled my legs from the soft cotton sheets and pulled me knees to my chest, resting my head on my knees as I took shaky breaths. I was drenched in sweat and my hair was sticking to my neck and temples, but I didn't care. I didn't have the energy to wipe the hair away.

It had been a week since I arrived in Starryview, and I had spent most of the time wide awake due to the nightmares. They had started out harmless enough, just shadows at the edges of my mind, but each night they got worse. And worse.

And here I am.

I swallowed hard several times in an attempt to keep from crying, but the lump in my throat was becoming persistent, and I knew that if I just sat there and did nothing that I would surly end up not only crying incessantly, but also tearing my hair out from the mixture of anger and utter exhaustion that had begun taking over my body as the nightmares' intensity slowly climbed.

I pulled the damp nightgown over my head and let it drop to the floor in a heap. The air of the room felt cool on my feverish skin and I shivered as goosebumps rose over my arms and legs.

 _No bruises,_ I thought as I looked over my milky skin. I wiped at my eyes before the tears that had sprung to my eyes had a chance to escape.

I slipped into a dark blue gown that Nora had made for me earlier in the week, the material swooshing around my ankles. The straps on this dress sat wide on my shoulders, causing the neck line to dip a little lower than I was used to, but it was still far from indecent.

"It accentuates that beautiful collar bone of yours," Nora had insisted when I had tried it on in her shop.

"Ye look beautiful," Reilly had commented with a grin. I had blushed then, and I could feel my cheeks warming at the thought now.

I brushed my hair and washed my face in the wash basin that sat in the corner of my room. I would take a bath at the springs later, once the sun was up.

For now, I just wanted some fresh air.

After slipping on my shoes, I tiptoed across my room to the door, avoiding every creaky board with ease. Slipping outside during the late hours of the night had become a bit of a routine, which meant that avoiding waking every one up in the process had also become habit.

I slipped into the hall and eased my door shut behind me. No matter how carefully I pulled, the click of the lock always seemed to echo off the walls, each time making me cringe as I waited for someone to peek there head out of their room and spot me sneaking around.

I strained my ears for any shuffling, especially from Hook's room, but like the nights before, none came. I took a deep breath and hurried down the hall before the urge to knock on his door overwhelmed me.

What could I say to him anyway?

Once I was out on the street, I turned right and headed down towards the beach. The sand looked marble under the rays of the moon, and the dark waves that licked up and onto the shore were outlined in silver.

I slipped off my shoes and carried them as I let my toes sink into the lingering warmth of the sand. I walked until I was just out of reach of the water that ran up to meet me and inhaled the salty air until my lungs were full. The breeze that came off the ocean was crisp, tickling my skin as it threatened to make me shiver, but before it could, it would withdraw with the wave and bring back the warmth that always lingered in Starryview's air.

To my right sat the Jolly Roger. She rocked slightly, the occasional moan of wood the only sound besides the gentle hiss of the waves and the splashing of water against the wood of the dock. She looked haunted without a crew aboard her. The wooden mermaid looked ghostly in the light of the moon, her large eyes blank and lifeless.

The moon was full tonight, and it was so large above me that I felt like I could reach up and touch it. I was so absorbed in its massive size that I momentarily forgot about my out of control nightmares.

Easing myself down onto the sand, I allowed myself to get lost in the constant push and pull of the waves.

It was amazing: the ocean had almost killed me once, and yet I couldn't get enough of sitting on the beach, the waves licking at my toes as I inhaled the salty-sweet air. It was like we had an understanding. I knew of its power and respected it, and in return, it respected my distance.

It wasn't lost on me that if I were to ever return home that I would have to cross the ocean in front of me, but as the days continued to come and go, I wasn't sure I would ever get home.

And there was a part of me, a part that was growing a little every day, that didn't seem to mind the idea.

Despite my nights being plagued by nightmares of Peter and the Lost Boys, my days in Starryview were anything but terrible. I spent most of my days in Nora's shop, sewing dresses and stitching up clothes that people brought in that needed it. I ate meals at the pub with Porter, Langley, and Reilly, and occasionally Fane and Smee.

Hook, although he still sits at his usual table, greets me silently whenever I come to the pub with a bow of his head or a small smile. Marie still hangs on him most nights, but I've noticed that while he still smiles and laughs at her jokes, he never touches her.

And since the night I ran after Tink, he hasn't kissed her. At least, not in front of me.

There are times where he sits facing our table and as much as I try to keep my focus on Porter's stories or Reilly's eyes, sometimes I find myself glancing up, only to find bright blue eyes staring back at me.

He's been into Nora's shop a few times when he wasn't out working on the Jolly Roger, and he's made friendly small talk as I've stitched up a shirt or a pair of his trousers.

We haven't talked about Tink. Or that night. I figure he'll talk when he's ready.

I haven't seen Tink since that night, but I haven't gone looking for her either. I haven't been to the well, and I only stay at the springs long enough to bathe before hightailing it back to town. But it seems that Tink hasn't been looking for us either, and I'm sure that if she wanted to, she would have just appeared.

To be honest, part of me felt guilty for not seeking her out, but there was a part of me that was still hurt by her lies, and a _huge_ part of me was still uncomfortable with her being dead. It just didn't seem natural for a dead person to linger.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. Maybe things weren't as great as they could be.

"Tell me," came a familiar voice to my right, "do you ever sleep?"

I looked up to see Hook a few yards away, making his way towards me. He was wearing dark trousers, a white, loose-fitting shirt, and his boots with silver buckles. His hair was messy and he kept running his fingers through it as if trying to fix it.

"Of course I sleep." I tried to keep my tone as neutral as possible, but Hook just arched an eyebrow and shot me a look that told me he didn't believe me. I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat, ready to deny anything he was about to say about me lying.

But to my surprise, he didn't say anything about it; didn't accuse me. Instead, he motioned to the empty space next to me. "May I sit?" he asked, his voice gruff with a sleepiness I hadn't noticed before. I felt my heart flutter, but pushed it away as I nodded.

Hook plopped down in the sand next to me, so close that his shoulder brushed mine. The soft cotton of his shirt felt nice on my skin, reminding me of the blankets back in my room, kicked away and forgotten once the nightmares had rendered me awake and too wired to lie still.

I remembered how the bed had felt in that dream, so familiar and warm and comfortable.

Then Peter had ruined it. If I ever got to return home, I would probably never be able to sleep in that bed again.

"This is the fourth night you've been out here." Hook stated, gazing at me from the corner of his eye and breaking me from my thoughts. I looked at him, shocked. "The nightmares are getting worse, aren't they?"

"How-?"

"Pan's quite the dream weaver," he stated bitterly. "I used to have nightmares too." He looked at me then, his blue eyes glinting with numerous tales of said nightmares. "Still do sometimes, as much as I hate to admit it."

A pause. Then, "I've heard you just about every night. You cry and thrash around for a while before you finally seem to wake up."

I froze for a moment, embarrassed, before ducking my head so he couldn't see the color that I could feel spreading over my cheeks. But Hook wasn't discouraged. He hooked a finger under my chin and lifted my eyes back to his, his gaze soft. "I'm right across the hall, you know? You don't have to deal with those nightmares alone."

My stomach flipped and the tips of my fingers started to tingle as my hands went cold and clammy. I swallowed, my mouth dry again as I tried to figure out something to say. Hook just smiled, his eyes darting around my face. I could have sworn that his eyes lingered a little longer on my lips, but maybe I was just imagining it.

"Kick down my door next time," I said, trying to sound like I was joking.

His smile grew. "Don't tempt me, love."

His breath smelt faintly of rum and spices, and I was overcome with the urge to lean into him.

But instead, I took a deep breath and leaned away from his touch before looking back out to sea, my heart pounding in my ears as I felt his eyes still on the side of my face.

Hook leaned back then, his hand and hook linking behind his head as he laid down in the sand. His white shirt pulled up slightly, revealing a bit of his stomach. His trousers sat low on his hips, revealing muscles I hadn't seen on him before. There was a faint trail of black hair that disappeared beneath his trousers, and I tried to avert my eyes before he caught me staring.

I couldn't help but notice that he hadn't shaved in a few days. His whiskers were a little longer than usual, making him seem more rugged than he actually was. His eyes were closed and his face was peaceful. No worry lines, no furrowed brow, no flirtatious smirk, no guarded expression.

Just peace.

"You should try this," Hook mumbled, not opening his eyes.

A small smile pulled at the corners of my mouth, and I laid down next to him without a second thought. What was the worse thing that could happen?

I didn't bother to knit my hands behind my head. I'd get sand in my hair anyway, so I knit my hands over my stomach instead and focussed on the rise and fall with each breath. I listened to the churn of the ocean and to the light breeze at it rustled through the trees behind us, feeling as though I was slowly sinking into the darkness behind my eyes, a heavy warmth slowly filling my bones and brushing across my skin.

"What are your nightmares about?" I asked sleepily, most of my words running together as I fought to stay conscious for just a little bit longer.

There was only the push and pull of the waves on the sand and Hook's deep, even breaths. For a moment, I thought maybe he had fallen asleep.

"A crocodile," he said, sounding a bit sheepish. "And an incessant ticking noise."

"Oh…" It was all I could say before drifting off, although I wondered if he was joking.

At some point, I felt soft cotton envelope me again, and I sighed, content. I rolled over and buried my face in the fluffy pillow, inhaling the smell of crisp spices, sweat, sea salt, and hint of rum. I tried opening my eyes, but all I could see was the white linen, so I closed my eyes again.

I felt the bed sink behind me as someone sat down. The faint smell of rum on his breath gave him away immediately.

"Don't sleep too long, love," came his gruff, sleepy voice in my ear. Whiskers tickled my ear and I sunk deeper into the pillows to tried and get away from its scratching. "The sun's up, and I don't want you wasting such a beautiful day in bed."

"Alright," I mumbled, sleep already pulling me back under.

I could feel him smile, his mouth still at my ear. Then I felt his hand come to rest just below my ribcage, the touch causing goosebumps to rise on my skin despite my sleepy state. "Goodnight, Holly," he whispered, his lips ghosting my ear.

"Goodnight, Thomas." I breathed sleepily before sinking back into a nightmare-free slumber.


	24. Chapter 24

If I would have been watching where I was walking, I could have easily avoided colliding with a half-naked Reilly.

I had just finished my bath and was about to make my way to Nora's shop, the early morning hours' events with Hook still at the front of mind, when I collided with corded muscles and sun kissed skin.

He had been peeling his shirt over his head, probably on his way to take a bath of his own, and didn't see me.

I stumbled a moment, putting my hands back to catch myself, but as Reilly's shirt slid down his arms and off the edges of his fingers, he lurched forward and grabbed me.

"Reilly!" I exclaimed as I regained my balance. "I'm so sorry!"

Reilly chuckled, running a hand through his sandy curls as he looked down at me, his hands still resting lazily on my waist. "I should be th' one apologizin'. I'm th' one who almost knocked ye on yer back."

I smiled and shook my head, tucking a strand of my hair nervously behind my ear. It was strange, being alone with Reilly, especially while he stood only inches from me in nothing but his trousers.

"I didn' hurt ye, did I?" he asked, his face suddenly serious as he searched my face. He reached up then, his thumb grazing against my cheek bone as his other traced the curve of my hip. "I grabbed ye pretty hard…"

My cheeks flushed hot as I shook my head. Reilly had been flirtatious before, and we had been pressed close that night that we danced in the pub, but we had never been _this_ close before. I could feel the heat radiating off of him and could smell the salty mixture of sweat and ocean water on his skin.

It reminded me of how Hook smelled, minus the spiciness of the rum, and felt my breathing hitch.

"No," I said a bit breathless. "I'm fine."

"Ye're sure?" he prodded, taking half a step closer.

I nodded wordlessly and felt myself take a half-step back, although I wasn't entirely sure why. Reilly was kind and had been since the day we met. He was a gentleman, never pushing any boundaries or insinuating his want to do so.

And yet, being so close to him like this, hidden away from prodding eyes in the quiet of the wood, felt wrong.

Disappointment flashed across his face at my retreat, but he covered it up with a smile just as quickly. His hands dropped away from me completely before he reached up to run a hand through his hair again.

It seemed to be a nervous habit.

"Good," he said with a small nod and I mirrored his action, twisting the fabric of my dress a bit nervously as an awkward silence descended on us.

"Well," I said with my best friendly smile, "I best be on my way to Nora's. She's probably wondering where I am."

"I'll come with ye," Reilly said, his mood seeming to lift as he said it.

Thankful that I hadn't wounded his pride too much, I smiled wider. "Best put on a shirt though," I jabbed playfully with a wink before slipping past him and on my way up the path, happy that the painfully awkward moment had passed.

His beaming smile and swelling pride wasn't lost on me as he let the comment go to his head.

"Ye know ye like the way I look without one," he practically purred back with a wink of his own, but he was already slipping on the shirt that had been forgotten on the forest floor.

"I'll never tell." I tried to sound serious, but it was too easy to get lost in the flirtatious banter, especially with Reilly.

A cold pang of guilt settled in my gut. When I woke up this morning, I had been in another man's bed, and while nothing had _happened,_ I couldn't help but wonder if Reilly would be hurt if he knew.

On the other hand, I didn't belong to Reilly…

But I also didn't belong to Hook either.

And when did I begin to care who I belonged to anyway?

Once we were back on the cobblestone street, I couldn't help but look out to the Jolly Roger. Bodies could be seen bustling back and forth on the deck as Hook's crew cleaned and repaired the ship, and I couldn't help but be curious as I watched a few men loading things onto the ship.

Were they preparing to leave?

"Looks like Thomas and th' boys are gettin' ready for a trip," Reilly mused, confirming my suspicions.

"Where to?" I asked, trying my best to sound uninterested. Reilly shrugged.

"Could be anywhere, I suppose." I could feel him looking at me from the corner of his eye, gauging my reaction, so I focussed on keeping my face blank and nodding, as if the possibility of Hook and his crew leaving didn't set off every alarm in my mind.

"It's a bit soon, don't ye think?" Reilly asked, and this time, it was my turn to peer at him from the corner of my eye.

"What is?"

"Travelin'," Reilly stated. "I mean, if Pan knows that Thomas is th' one who took ye, and if he's as angry as everyone seems t' think, then don't ye think venturin' away from the safety of Starryview is a bit… reckless?"

"Maybe," was all I could manage. My heart had seized in my chest at the thought of Pan and the Lost Boys somehow stumbling across Hook and his crew, demanding that Hook return what Peter thought was rightfully his.

As we drew closer to Nora's shop, the bodies I had seen bustling about became more familiar. Langley was rolling a large barrel up the ramp that lead to the Jolly Roger while Smee stood on the deck with parchment and a pen and seemed to be checking off supplies as they were brought aboard.

Porter was snaking a pile of rope through his hands, untangling knots as they appeared, a small knife held carefully between his teeth in case he needed to use it to untie a particularly tight knot.

Gresham swept the deck with an old, splintering broom, a scowl on his face. I felt a corner of my mouth quirk up at the thought of Hook ordering him to sweep the deck, no doubt causing Gresham to swear and mumble under his breath the entire time.

But no matter how many times I scanned the ship, I couldn't see Hook.

 _He's probably in his quarters planning their course,_ I told myself as Reilly pulled open the door to Nora's shop and held it open for me, a shy smile on his face.

I smiled at him as I walked into Nora's shop, finally losing sight of the Jolly Roger and the crew hard at work.

Only to find Hook leaning against one of Nora's counters, his crooked grin lighting up his eyes as he chuckle. Nora stood on the other side, her fingers quick at work as she stitched something, a shadow of a smile ghosting her lips as she shook her head at whatever he had just said.

They both looked up then, Hook's smile never falling from his lips as he looked at me. I felt the familiar tingle in my cheeks as he watched me, trying not to give myself away too much as I stepped farther into the shop.

He wore the same clothes from earlier, but he had rolled the shirt's sleeves up to his elbows and his pants were smeared with dust where he must have wiped his hands. His hair looked brushed, but he was quickly on his way to messing it up as he carded his fingers through his hair.

"Morning, love," he greeted me warmly and I felt my stomach do a summersault. "Sleep well?"

I flushed as he watched me, a knowing twinkle in his eye as I thought about waking up in his room, in his bed, knowing exactly how I got there and knowing that when he had told me goodnight that I hadn't called him _Hook,_ that I had called him by his _real_ name.

I nodded and smiled shyly, earning myself a quick wink from Hook that told me it was our little secret.

"She looks well rested, doesn't she?" Reilly's voice drifted up behind me as he stepped into the shop to stand next to me, his arm brushing mine. He looked down at me, his eyes raking down the length of me before shooting me a wink of his own.

I gave Reilly my best polite smile before looking back at Hook.

And felt my stomach drop.

Hook still leaned against the counter, but his shoulders and neck were tense as his smile slipped from genuine to strained as his eyes flicked between Reilly and I.

Nora was watching us too, her gaze gentle yet calculating as she continued her stitching. I tried to shake my head just enough to let her know that what she was thinking (and possibly what Hook was thinking too) wasn't what it looked like. She must have read my face because she only smiled sweetly and gave me the ghost of a nod.

She cleared her throat, shattering the silence that was beginning to turn hostile. "She sure does, dear," she answered Reilly's question. Then she turned to Hook, whose eyes were locked on Reilly, a dangerous shadow beginning to cloud his bright eyes.

"Thomas, isn't there something you wanted to speak with Holly about?"

Our eyes locked then, and some of the darkness faded from his eyes, but there was still a storm of emotions there that I couldn't quite discern.

And in the time it took me to blink, Hook was back to his old self. His eyes were bright and his smirk was confident as he stood up and stretched his arms above his head. I tried once again not to let my eyes linger on the sliver of skin that peeked out from beneath the hem of his shirt.

"There is, indeed," Hook said as he brought his hands back down and rested them on his hips.

I'm not sure why, but I was nervous to hear what it was he wanted to tell me. My feet itched to shift, but I kept them planted as I focused on the man in front of me.

"The boys and I are headed to Fairedge tomorrow morning to do a bit of gambling and cheap drinking," he said as he watched me carefully, gauging my reaction.

"O-Oh," I managed as the confusion set it. "Alright…?"

Hook arched an eyebrow playfully at my confusion and chuckled a moment before he said, "And it's been decided that you'll be joining us."

"What?" Reilly asked, his voice taking on an edge that screamed his disapproval.

Hook's eyes twinkled dangerously as he slid his eyes from mine to focus on Reilly. "You heard me," he growled.

"And who was it that decided _that?_ "

"I did," Hook clipped, drawing himself up to his full height. "I'm the one who brought Holly here to Starryview and, therefore, she's my responsibility." His eyes flicked to mine a moment before refocussing on Reilly. "And if I want her in Fairedge with me, then that's where she'll be."

Reilly shook his head. "I don' think—"

"Obviously not since you're still talking," Hook snapped. Reilly froze, his eyes shining dangerously as his fingers curled into fists. Hook just smirked, obviously proud of his ability to stop Reilly's arguing.

"Thomas!" Nora exclaimed, her stitching coming to a stop as she stared hard at Hook.

"He knows I didn't mean anything by it. Right, mate?" He smiled at Reilly, but it looked forced. I cringed inwardly at the hostility that was quickly becoming tangible. My stomach twisted as I waited for Reilly's response.

I was tired of people fighting, tired of waiting for someone to snap. It reminded me too much of Peter.

I shuddered.

Reilly was seething. "Of course not. _Mate._ " He said the last word between gritted teeth. I could feel him shaking beside me, and I was grateful for each moment that passed that he didn't act on his anger, despite Hook's taunting.

"We leave before dawn, love." Hook's eyes slid back to mine, his anger and annoyance with Reilly vanishing as he watched me. He offered me a kind smile, and I returned it, butterflies roaring to life in my stomach as he took a step toward me.

He placed himself right between Reilly and I, forcing Reilly to take a step back and blocking him from my view. Hook's right hand came to gently rest on my hip as he leaned in close.

I felt my breath hitch as heat began to spread up my neck and over my cheeks.

"I'm going to go finish helping the boys prepare the ship," he said as a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. His eyes flicked down to my lips before coming back up. "You're more than welcome on the ship. I'd enjoy the company."

"I-I-" I looked to Nora. I was supposed to help her catch up on some minor clothing repairs.

She was grinning ear to ear, but she quickly tried to cover it up. She cleared her throat, drawing Hook's attention away from the side of my face. I noticed that his cheeks were tinged a light shade of pink, but his kept his hand on my hip despite his embarrassment, which only made me blush harder.

"Holly promised to help me catch up on some stitching," Nora explained, her eyes never leaving her still-working fingers. "I'll send her out once we're finished." She glanced up and arched an eyebrow, feigning business, but the corners of her lips twitched with the threat of a smile.

Hook nodded, his smile lighting up his whole face.

"That's fair." He squeezed my hip, and I itched to reach out and touch him, to touch the soft cotton of his shirt, but instead I brought my hand up to tuck some hair behind my ear.

Hook shot me a knowing smile, as if he could read my mind, and I felt my cheeks burst into flame. I ducked my head so I wouldn't have to look at him looking at me, his blue eyes soft and kind and…

 _What in the world was happening?_

His hand fell away from my hip and he stepped back, giving Nora a nod before turning his way towards the door, but not before he shot me one last wink.

I felt like he took all my breath with him. I was dizzy.

Hook was in the shop's doorway, fresh air pouring in around him, when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. It took me a moment to realize that it was Reilly, and he was making his way towards Hook, his steps fast and light, his shoulders tense, and his hands outstretched as he made a grab for Hook's shirt.

"Thomas!"

But my warning came too late, and Reilly's hands were tangled in the back of Hook's shirt as he used his momentum to push them both out into the street.


	25. Chapter 25

A string of colorful swears escaped Nora's mouth as she followed me outside. But unlike my steps, which propelled me towards the scuffle, hers stopped at the doorway of her shop, lingering as she watched with what I'm sure was a mixture of concern and irritation.

I didn't waste time looking back to see.

Hook, who was sprawled on his stomach, was hastily making an attempt to roll onto his back while Reilly attempted to land as many hits as he could.

"Reilly!" My shout landed on deaf ears. "Reilly, stop it!"

Hook rolled onto his back. "Better listen to her, mate," he huffed as he dodged one of Reilly's fists. "Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

Reilly scowled, his other fist a blur as he brought it down. Hook wasn't quick enough this time and he suffered quite the left hook. The sheer force of the hit caused his head to smack against the cobblestone and he had to blinked heavily a few times before his eyes refocussed.

If Reilly noticed the shadow spreading through Hook, he didn't show it. But _I_ noticed, and it scared me.

"Reilly, stop!" I closed the gap between the fight and myself and wrapped my fingers into Reilly's shirt and pulled as hard as I could. It was enough to make Reilly lose his balance and fall backwards. It sent me stumbling too, but a scrape on my rear was better than Hook and Reilly trying to kill each other.

I felt hope rise in me. I could help stop this before it got too ugly.

But I wasn't prepared for Reilly's reaction. His eyes flashed dangerously as he brought his arm back, surly an attempt to get away from me and back at Hook, and knocked me in the mouth.

I untangled my hands from Reilly's shirt and brought them to my mouth. My bottom lip was split and bleeding, but I was so worked up that I didn't feel any pain. At least, not yet. When I brought my fingers back, the tips were smeared crimson. I could taste the tangy copper, which made my stomach churn, but I pushed it away.

"Holly!" Nora's voice was shrill as she squatted next to me and turned my face for her to examine. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"I'm fine," I insisted, brushing her hands away, but I could tell by her set shoulders that she wasn't leaving my side.

I turned my attention back to the scuffle, which had begun to draw a crowd, just in time to see Reilly climbing over Hook. But Hook was better prepared now.

He brought his knees up before Reilly could pin him and kicked Reilly hard in the chest, sending him sprawling backwards, gasping for air. He clawed at the cobblestone as he tried to drag himself away from Hook, who was quickly getting to his feet, the shadow settling over him like storm clouds.

"Thomas, don't," I pleaded as I tried to get to my feet. Hook's eyes, which had been glued dangerously to Reilly, flicked to me. I swallowed the fear that rose in my throat as I stared back at hard eyes and forced myself to stand tall as I stepped into his path. I put up my hands, as if in surrender, and Hook stopped.

"Move, Holly," he growled, but I shook my head. Behind me Reilly coughed and struggled to take in air. Hook snarled. "He started this—"

"And I'm stopping it." I tried to sound authoritative, but I could hear the waver in my voice. When Hook was like this, he terrified me, and I couldn't be sure that he wasn't going to push me aside like Reilly had just a moment ago.

"He hurt you," he stated, his voice low.

I nodded. "I know."

He tried to step around me, but I was quicker. My open palms pressed against his chest, the softness of his shirt somehow giving me the courage to look him in the eye.

"Thomas, _please._ Enough."

"Captain!"

Everyone's eyes shifted to Hook's crew, who were coming up from the beach. Porter lead them, with Langley, Smee, Fane, Axton, and Gresham all at the front.

"What in the bloody hell is going on here?" Gresham asked, his eyes darting from his captain, to me, and then finally to Reilly. We must have been quite the sight; Hook with a slightly bleeding nose, me with a busted lip, and Reilly laying in the street trying to catch his breath.

"Looks like someone crossed the captain," Porter answered, his eyebrows shooting up as he studied Reilly, who had started to sit up. "And the princess by the looks of it," he added, his eyes landing on my lip.

Reilly's breathing was labored, but I was relieved just to see him breathing at all. One hand cradled his chest, and his gaze stayed glued to the street, his sandy curls hiding his eyes. Slowly, he curled a leg beneath him as he tried to stand.

"Stay down you piece of filth," Hook spat, taking one threatening step forward. I pushed on him again, praying to whatever gods would listen that Hook didn't try to plow through me. I was no match for Hook should he decide to go after Reilly, so I prayed that the more people kept talking, the more time he'd have to calm down.

A long, low whistle passed Porter's lips.

"I'd do what he says, boy," Gresham said with a scowl.

But Reilly didn't listen. He slowly got to his feet, his face twisting in pain as took in a sharp breath. He stumbled, but caught himself, before shooting a glare Gresham's way.

"Since when d' I listen to yer _captain?"_ Reilly wheezed.

Gresham bristled and took a threatening step forward, but Porter held out an arm, blocking his way.

"You best hold your tongue you little brat!" Gresham bellowed.

"Enough! All of you!"

Never in my life had I been so grateful to hear Nora's voice. She stepped forward, her hands on her hips, the anger on her face was impossible to miss.

I could feel the rise and fall of Hook's chest beneath my hands. Slowly, his breathing was returning to normal, his heartbeat slowing beneath my fingertips. But the shadow didn't lift, so I stayed put.

He gingerly rubbed his jaw, opening and closing it to make sure it wasn't broken. He'd probably have a bruise before sunset, but it was better than a broken jaw. Then his eyes flickered down to me.

"He hurt you," he said again, his voice low.

"It was an accident," I said in an attempt to calm the anger that was rising in his eyes again. "I got in the way." It was a weak excuse, and I could tell by the way Hook kept shooting glances at Reilly that he didn't entirely buy it, but between my minor injury and Nora's stern proclamation, he let it slide.

I sucked in a sharp breath as the pad of his thumb gently brushed against my split lip, tiny pins and needles stabbing into the cut. He flinched but didn't pull his hand away.

"Sorry, love," he said, his brows knitted together in worry, but I just shook my head.

The crowd that had gathered to watch the struggle began to disperse, leaving Hook, Reilly, and I alone in the street. Nora lingered and Hook's crew stood where the beach met the stone, waiting for orders from their captain.

"Get back to work, boys," Hook said as he peered over my head at his waiting crew. "We still have a lot of work to do before tomorrow." He said the last part with a pointed look at Reilly, who glared back.

I could tell Reilly was still furious by the way he clenched his fists at his sides and by the way he held his shoulders, but every time his eyes found me, they sparkled with an unspoken apology, and he grimaced every time his eyes fell on my lip. I know he wanted to say something, _anything_ that could make the whole situation better, but instead he turned and made his way down the narrow alley behind him, never looking back. He had already lost once today, and I wasn't sure he wanted to do so again so soon.

What had caused him to go after Hook like that in the first place, I wasn't sure.

The thought was lost on me when I felt Hook's warm hand encase one of mine and bring it down between us, his thumb running over my knuckles.

A blush erupted across my cheeks as I screamed at myself to look up at him, but my nerves got the better of me so instead, I looked at his hand in mine.

The cool silver of his hook found its way under my chin and gently forced me to look up at him. The stormy shadow was gone from his eyes, leaving me to look into pools of blue. His brows were still knitted together and his eyes seemed to glide over every inch of my face before finally coming back to meet my gaze.

As the wrinkles on his forehead and the lines between his brows disappeared and his famous smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, I felt myself relax.

"Let's go clean up that lip," he said with a wink. "What do you say, love?" He didn't wait for my response before he turned to look at Nora. "What do you say, Nora? Is it alright if I steal her away for a while?"

I turned to Nora, still very much aware that Hook still held my hand, just in time to see her cross her arms and give Hook her sternest look.

But there was a twinkle in her eye that told me she couldn't say no and a shadow of a smile on her lips as she quickly glanced at Hook and I's joined hand.

She sighed, her best attempt to sound irritated, and Hook's smile grew. "I suppose," she said before she turned her eyes to me, "but there will be plenty of work to be done when you get back."

I nodded, sure my words would fail me. She smiled at me then, shooting me a wink before turning on her heel and waddling back into her shop and shutting the door behind her.

###

I washed the blood from my fingers in the wash basin that Hook had in his quarters before discarding the the rag we had used to blot my lip. My lip still stung but, as Hook happily pointed out, it didn't look nearly as bad with the blood dabbed away.

"It'll heal just fine," he mused, turning my head from side to side before he dropped his hand and hook to his lap.

Now, as I turned back to face him, I noticed his grimace as he lightly prodded the back of his head, the tips of his fingers coming back sticky with blood.

I wasted no time in grabbing a clean rag and making my way back over to where he sat on his bed.

"Your turn," I said with a gentle smile before reaching behind him and gently dabbing the back of his head with the rag. He sucked in sharp breath, pain evident on his face as he clenched his eyes shut. He swore under his breath as his hand reached out and grabbed the one that wasn't currently trying to clean his wound.

"Relax," I soothed before ordering him to duck his head. "I need to get a good look at it; make sure it doesn't need any of Fane's stitching."

He grumbled his discontent but did as I asked.

As gently as I could, I pulled back the rag, and sighed in relief. The cut wasn't deep and wouldn't need stitching.

"Hold this in place," I ordered, guiding his hand up to the cloth. "It looks clean enough, but next time you take a bath, make sure to wash the area really well." He nodded, one of his eyebrows arching in surprise.

"Since when do you know so much about treating injuries?"

I smiled despite the violent twist in my gut. "John used to get hurt all the time," I explained as I tried to talk around the lump rising in my throat, "and if we ever went to a healer, they were bound to blab. I learned a lot about cuts and bumps and bruises."

His eyes softened as I said this, and I resisted the urge to cry as I remembered how beat up John had been the day Peter had brought him to Mystasia.

The day Peter wanted to take me away before my father refused.

The day that had sent my world spinning dangerously out of control.

I ducked my head and swallowed hard. I would _not_ let all of it overwhelm me, not now. Instead, I looked up at Hook and smiled, my eyes flicking to the bruise that had started to form along his jaw. He grinned back, seemingly proud of his battle scars.

I stood one last time and retrieved another clean rag and dabbed one end in water before returning to the bed and Hook. I sunk down, closer this time, and gently took his whiskered chin in my hand. Then, very carefully, as not to jolt him and cause him pain, I dabbed away the dried line of blood beneath his nose.

Sitting so close to Hook, it was hard not to notice just beautiful his eyes were. From a distance, they shone cerulean, but up close, one could see ribbons of silver swirling in the blue.

 _His eyes really are like the ocean,_ I thought distractedly as I forced myself to focus on my work.

I started when I felt the coolness of his hook on my cheek. The edge traced along my cheekbone, causing goosebumps to rise on my arms.

I stopped dabbing at his nose, the line of blood long gone, and met Hook's gaze. His eyes were searching— _always searching—_ and I swear I saw the silver in his eyes swirl.

"You have been so brave, Holly." His voice was husky as he held my gaze, his usual flirtatious smirk gone, leaving only a seriousness that I hadn't seen since the night he was reunited with Tink.

Tears sprung to my eyes before I could stop them, and I blinked several times to keep them from falling, but Hook just shook his head before cupping my other cheek, the rag that he had been holding to his head forgotten on the bed beside him.

"I don't feel brave," I whispered as the first tear fell onto my cheek. Hook's thumb was quick, wiping the tears away expertly as they started to come faster.

And then his lips were on my face, kissing away every tear, and I felt like my head was swimming, but I didn't pull away. I didn't _want_ to pull away.

Instead, I tangled my fingers in his shirt and pulled him closer.

For a moment, he seemed startled by my bravery, but then he was snaking an arm around my waist and pulling me into his lap.

We both froze then, our foreheads pressed together as we both tried to catch our breath. I felt far too warm in my dress, and Hook's cheeks were stained rosy pink as he stared up at me, his ever-searching eyes sparkling as he tucked my hair behind my ear. I gripped his shoulder's tightly, afraid that I would fall apart if I didn't.

"Holly," he breathed, and I reveled in the spicy scent of rum on his breath. He swallowed hard, his blush darkening as he took a deep breath to say something.

But he never got the chance to say whatever it was he wanted to because a sharp rap came on the door, shattering the moment and any chance that we'd get to finish whatever had started between us.

 _Whatever had started the day we met._


	26. Chapter 26

Marie's voice stabbed through the door, reminding me of a nail dragging across stone. "Thomas? Thomas, sweetheart, open up! I need to talk to you!"

I started climbing off Hook's lap, not wanting to be caught in such a position by Marie. She would surly have a fit if she saw me wrapped around Hook, and I didn't want her attempting to claw my eyes out. But before I could, his arms tightened around my waist, pulling me back to him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, looking up at me through thick lashes, but I just shook my head and gave him my best attempt at an understanding smile.

I could see the conflict in his eyes, and it made my heart flutter. He wanted us to stay just like this, but he also seemed to not want to keep Marie waiting.

I had to agree that it was a bad idea to keep her waiting.

Reluctantly, he let me go, and I sank back onto the bed beside him, leaving more than enough space between us as not to look suspicious should she come barging in. Then, I picked up a rag and pretended to clean my lip, my entire body buzzing and my mind reeling as Hook stood and made his way to answer the door.

"Marie," he greeted as the door swung open. I could hear the smile in his voice, and I couldn't help but wonder if he had to force it.

"What's this I hear about you taking _Miss Priss_ to Fairedge?" I had to give it to her, she sure knew how to skip over pleasantries when she felt like it. I swallowed the fire that was rising in my throat at her nickname for me.

I couldn't see Marie behind Hook's tall form, but I _did_ see his shoulders tense slightly before he relaxed again, leaning up against the doorframe in an attempt to seem casual.

"I figured you'd be happy to see her go, at least for a little while." If Marie heard the clip in his tone, she didn't acknowledge it.

"I suppose," she mused, and I could just picture her pursing her lips. "I still don't see why she has to go with you? You know how much I love Fairedge."

 _Because he wants me there with him,_ I wanted to scream, remembering what Hook had said to Reilly.

 _"_ _If I want her in Fairedge with me, then that's where she'll be."_

Hook heaved a sigh that told me that they had probably had similar conversations many times before, but he didn't say anything. He rubbed the back of his neck and ducked his head and he had started to fidget.

When he peeked back over his shoulder, his eyes met mine for only a moment before he turned back to Marie.

"We've talked about this before, Marie," he said in a low voice that was probably supposed to be only meant for her, but now, with my suspicions confirmed, I felt my stomach churn. What was the reason he had talked to her about?

"I know, I know," she said with a sigh and I heard her take a step forward before seeing her fingers run through his hair, her long nails painted the same bright red. Again, he stiffened, but he didn't push her away. "If she's spotted, word gets back to her father that she's still alive and well. Then he'll pay your ransom, and maybe even throw in a little more for good measure, and you'll be able to travel a free man."

A hard knot plunged into the pit of my stomach.

I was just a bargaining chip in Hook's affairs. The key to his freedom.

 _But what about—?_

No. I wouldn't let myself think about what had just happened between us, if there was anything at all. I wouldn't think about last night on the beach or about him opening up about his nightmares, no matter how slight. For all I knew, it had all been a ploy to get me to trust him so I wouldn't make any hasty escape attempts once we were somewhere other than Starryview.

But he had to know that I wouldn't do that, not after everything. Wouldn't he?

After a long moment, I heard Hook let out a steady breath. "Exactly."

I felt my throat close at the word. I was nothing to him; just another foolish girl who got caught up in his good looks and his smooth voice.

Marie's giggle brought me out of my thoughts, and I peered up from my trembling hands just in time to watch her snake her hands around his waist.

"How about I give you a proper send off then, _Captain?"_ She purred his title, and it made me feel sick to my stomach.

But Hook only shook his head. "Not now, Marie," he said as he slid out of her grip. "We have a lot to get done, and we're already behind schedule."

"Well, if you'd stop getting into scuffles, that probably wouldn't be a problem, would it?" She sounded as though she was trying to poke fun, but her tone had come out much too sharp. As if on reflex, Hook reached up and ran his fingers over the bruise on his jaw. "Reilly doesn't want her going with you either," she stated cooly, but the truth in her words rang loud in my ears.

That's why Reilly attacked Hook: he wanted me to stay in Starryview with _him._

"Then perhaps you two should get together and discuss such things amongst yourselves," Hook snapped.

Marie was quiet for a long moment, no doubt surprised that Hook had crossed her. But, just as I expected, she recovered with a _humph_ and stormed off. I could hear her retreating footsteps on the wood of the Jolly Roger growing farther and farther away until they weren't there at all.

Hook stood in the doorway long after she had left, his grip on the doorframe turning his knuckles white as he tried to steady his breathing. He was fuming, although I didn't understand why.

I stood on shaky legs, the hurt of knowing that I was a pawn in Hook's grand scheme to become a free man burning hot in the front of my mind. I tried to be quiet but, unlike the floorboards of the inn, I didn't know which boards creaked and which ones didn't, and the low groan of a floorboard gave me away.

Hook turned to face me, his face carefully composed as he watched me, but I looked away. I wouldn't look at him. I _couldn't_ look at him. If I did, I knew that I would come unraveled.

"I should be getting back to Nora," I said as I gathered the dirty rags from the bed. "We have a lot to get done before tomorrow, and you're already behind schedule."

Hook didn't say anything as I placed the dirty rags on the edge of his wash basin, for which I was thankful, but when I made my way towards the door, he didn't budge.

"Holly," he began, and I thought I heard a waver to his voice, "what Marie said… What _I_ said—"

"You don't have to explain anything to me," I interrupted as I pushed by him. I tried to keep my tone casual, as if what he had said hadn't broken my heart, but instead it came out cold.

I made my way across the deck without looking back, and I told myself that I wouldn't cry until I was back on the sand and far out of earshot of any of the crew members or Hook.

I didn't need any of them feeling sorry for me.

My feet hit the dock before I heard footsteps bounding down the ramp behind me. _Just ignore it,_ I thought. _Just ignore him._

"Holly." I ignored him, but I couldn't ignore his hand closing around my wrist. I stopped my retreat and swallowed the hard lump in my throat before turning to face him. I needed to keep it together if I was going to face him; no letting him know how much he had gotten to me.

I put on my best tight-lipped smile and cold gaze, one that I used in court or when dealing with people I didn't like. My father had an advisor who taught me this look since my mother hadn't been there to show me herself.

"They'll think you're being polite," she told me, "but they'll also know where they belong. Beneath you. Always beneath you."

I didn't much like that lesson. I thought it was a bit cruel, but it was the best shield I had.

Hook stared down at me for several heartbeats, his eyes darting over my face as if he was trying to find a sliver of the girl from before, but she was gone. I had tucked her away. For now, he was dealing with _Princess_ Holly.

But it seemed that Hook had a mask of his own. The concern slipped from his face, the gentleness from his eyes giving way to cold calculation. There was no uncertainty in his posture; only authority. This was _Captain_ Hook, the same pirate that had shown up in my court only a few weeks ago, and he was the same pirate who had taken me from my room in the middle of the night and had almost gotten me killed in the process.

 _He's also the one who saved me._ I pushed the thought away. _It it wasn't for him, I'd probably be in Peter's clutches right now._

 _He might as well be handing me back to him,_ I thought as anger began to stir in me. _Because once he hands me back over to my father, he'll regain his freedom and then Peter will come for me again. And this time, no one will stop him._

Hook released my wrist and took a step back, putting some appropriate distance between us. "We leave before sunrise."

I nodded.

Then I walked away, feeling his eyes on me long after my feet hit the sand and the tears started to fall.


	27. Chapter 27

I had never seen Starryview so quiet. All the lights were out, and all the windows were shut up tight. No one wandered the street in the early hour, and I could picture everyone curled up in their warm beds, waiting for the first rays of dawn.

By the time they opened their eyes and stretched the sleep from their muscles, we'd be long gone.

I hadn't expected such quiet. I had expected a crowd to send us off on our little journey, even though we were due back in a couple of weeks. I had expected Marie to be here, throwing herself at Hook every chance she got, dabbing at her eyes as she pretended to cry.

Part of me even expected Tink to be here. I stared up towards the spot where the beginning of the trail would be, and I tried to will her into existence. Even if she waved from there, at least it would be some sort of goodbye.

But Tink didn't appear, and as the crew continued to ready the ship, none of the towns folk came. Didn't the crew have friends here on the island? Family? I mentally kicked myself for not paying more attention.

Quiet footsteps announced someone coming down the ramp, but I didn't turn. I kept my eyes glued on the town, hoping to see someone. Anyone.

"It's almost time to go, love."

"Isn't anyone coming?" I asked, my eyes still searching.

Hook chuckled. "Probably not."

"Why?" I turned to look at him for the first time since yesterday. I had been avoiding him as best I could, but Starryview wasn't big enough to hide from him forever, and now we were going to be on a ship together for a few days, making it impossible to _not_ be around each other.

He looked the same as he had the day he arrived in Mystasia. He wore black trousers and his long black coat over a black shirt. The silver buckles on his black boots sparkled in the moonlight, and his fingers were adorned with silver rings, stones of red and green and opal glittering like stars.

He gave me a small smile that set the butterflies fluttering in my stomach and shrugged. "The only time we get a proper send off is if there's a possibility we won't be coming back."

My heart sank. "Oh."

That's when I heard it: the sound of a door opening on old, worn hinges. Hook must have heard it too because his eyes shot up.

When I spun around, I felt a smile pull at my lips.

She hobbled down the road and across the sand, already dressed for the day despite the early hour. Her plain blue dress and white apron swished around her ankles while her matching bandana held her wild hair in place. In one arm, she held a plainly wrapped package tied off with string. And in the other, she carried a pair of black leather boots.

"Morning, Nora!" Hook shouted as she made her way down the dock.

"Good morning!" she hollered back.

I met her halfway down the dock, my smile so wide it hurt my cheeks. My relief to see her was almost overwhelming.

"You didn't think I'd let you go without saying goodbye, did you?" She raised an eyebrow at me before setting the boots and package down at her feet.

I laughed even though tears sprung to my eyes.

"Come here," she said as she held out her arms. I stepped into them and she enveloped me in the warmest hug I had ever received. I had to stoop over, but that was a small price to pay. "You'll be back in a few weeks," she said as she rocked us back and forth. "And when you get back, there will be plenty for you to do around the shop." I laughed again, tears spilling down my cheeks.

Again, I could hear his footsteps approaching, and I felt butterflies.

Nora released me and wiped away my tears before I had a chance to. I blushed, afraid that Hook would comment, but he stayed silent.

"And you," she turned to Hook, who straightened a little at her tone. "You take care of her. Do you hear me?"

His eyes flashed to me before he locked eyes with Nora. "I would never let anything happen to her, Nora. I'll bring her back safe and sound."

 _Because if something happens to me, you can't get your ransom,_ I thought bitterly, but there was something in the way he looked at me in that fleeting moment before he locked eyes with Nora that seemed to scream at me to understand something.

I wasn't sure what that something was.

"You better," she quipped, but she engulfed him in a hug as well, wrapping her arms around his middle and squeezing him tight. His arms fell around her shoulders as he pulled her close and ducked his head to kiss the top of hers.

I couldn't help but smile at them. No matter how hurt I was, seeing Hook be so sweet with Nora made my heart swell.

When Nora stepped away, I could see the mistiness of her eyes. She was holding back tears.

"I have something for you, dear," she said, recovering quickly. It took me a moment to realize she as talking to me. She snatched the package and boots off the dock and held both out to me, a proud smile on her face.

"Thank you." I took the package and the boots.

"The boots should be about your size," Nora stated as she dabbed at her eyes with her apron, "and I stitched up the shirts and trousers myself. It should help you blend in once you get to Fairedge. Most of those men will have never seen such pretty girl in their lives, and if they see you in your pretty dresses, they might start to think you're perfect wife material."

I ignored the uneasiness that shot up my spine and nodded. She was trying to protect me as best she could, even though she'd be days away, separated by an ocean.

"The ship is ready, Captain," Smee shouted from the top of the ramp leading up to the Jolly Roger.

Hook turned and nodded. "Tell the lads to get ready to raise the anchor."

Smee straightened into a salute. "Aye aye, Captain!" And then he could be heard shouting orders. The crew began hustling across the deck, getting into their positions as they repeated the orders amongst themselves.

And then Hook's hand was at my elbow. "Time to go, love," he said sounding almost apologetic. I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. The package and boots suddenly felt heavy in my hands and I worried my feet wouldn't carry me up the ramp. Hook must have sensed my unease because his facial features softened and he gently took the package and boots from me. "I'll take these. One more goodbye, but then it's time to go." He raised an eyebrow at me, silently asking me if I understood, and I nodded.

Hook made his way up the ramp, shouting orders as he went, all of which were echoed by his crew.

"Just a couple of weeks," I whispered to myself as I stared at Hook's back. Then, when I turned to Nora, "I can survive a few weeks away."

She smiled. "I know you can." She reached up to cup my face between her hands. The tears had returned to her eyes as she watched me. "Be good. None of Porter's ale chugging."

The laugh bubbled over before I could stop it, and soon, we were both laughing.

I promised I would be good and that I wouldn't chug any ale, no matter how bad Porter wanted me to. It earned me a nod and another quick hug. When she let go, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.

I would be just fine in Fairedge. I could do this.

"Goodbye, Nora," I said as I took a step back.

"Goodbye, Holly," she echoed. "See you soon."

Each step felt lighter as I made my way down the dock to the Jolly Roger. I was about to take my first step up the ramp when I heard my name pierce the air.

"Holly! Wait!"

Reilly.

He sprinted down the street, his feet carrying him faster than I feared he could keep up with, but he didn't stumble. He didn't slow as he hit the sand, not even when his feet hit the wood of the dock.

He wore what I could only assume were his night clothes: a dark, loose shirt with the trousers to match. The laces of his shoes weren't tied, telling me he slipped them on in a haste.

Part of me feared he wouldn't slow down in time and would plow right into me, carrying us both into the water, but I was wrong. In the last few bounds, he slowed considerably, only stopping a few feet away. He was breathing hard, his cheeks flushed red and his brow dotted with sweat. He put his hands on his knees and bent over to catch his breath.

I was stunned, not sure what to say. He hadn't spoken to me since yesterday morning, and I was fairly certain it was going to stay that way.

Marie's words echoed in my mind, and I was reminded that Reilly didn't want me to go to Fairedge with Hook. He wanted me to stay in Starryview with him.

"Holly—"

"Reilly," I interrupted, not wanting to give him the chance to try and change my mind, or worse, start another fight between him and Hook, "I have to go."

"I know." He gulped down another breath before standing tall. "I know. I just… I had t' say… goodbye."

I shifted uncomfortably and peeked behind Reilly to Nora. Her eyes were wide, just as surprised as me. She shrugged. She had no idea what was going on.

"O-oh," I stammered, clasping my hands in front of me.

"What I did yesterday… I was a royal prick." He rubbed the back of his neck and ducked his head, shame beginning to color his cheeks. When he peeked up at me, he had a sheepish smile on his face. "I guess I jus'… lost meh nerve. I want yeh to be safe."

"I will be," I assured him. "Thomas and his crew are more than capable—"

"I know," Reilly snapped, but he quickly recovered, forcing himself to relax. Hook was obviously still a sore subject. "I know they are. I jus' think you'd be safer here. With me," he added hastily, and I felt guilt course through me. Reilly meant well, and I know that he cared about me more than what he was letting on, but the feeling wasn't mutual. Reilly was my friend. Nothing more.

"I know, Reilly," I started, unsure where I was going with any of this, "it's just—"

His lips were on mine before I could finish my sentence, one arm snaking around my waist and pulling me flush against him while another cupped my cheek.

His lips were hot and dry and hungry, and his skin smelt of salt and sweat.

I froze, my body going rigid as my mind went blank.

And then I lifted my hands and put them on Reilly's chest. And gently pushed him away.

Reilly cringed and sucked in a breath, and it was then that I remembered Hook's kick to his chest. I opened my mouth to apologize, but Reilly waved me off.

"It's fine," he gritted as he took a half-step away from me. Although his arm left it's spot from around my waist, it didn't stop him from taking my hand.

"Reilly—"

"I have a lot t' make up for when yeh get back," he said, his eyes shining with a hope that I couldn't bear to rip away from him. Instead, I nodded silently and tried my best to give him a smile that hopefully he could hold on to for the couple of weeks that I'd be gone. He beamed at me, and I knew that it had worked.

"If you two are finished," Hook shouted at us from the top of the ramp, "then I'd like to get this ship sailing."

Reilly shot Hook a glare, but if Hook saw it he didn't say so.

"Goodbye, Reilly," I said while he was distracted, pulling my hand away before he could pull me back for another goodbye kiss. Then I turned on my heel and bolted up the ramp.

A few of Hook's men scampered forward and loaded the ramp on to the ship, leaving Reilly and Nora to watch from the docks. I came to stand next to Hook, making sure to keep plenty of distance between us as we both waved goodbye.


	28. Chapter 28

I turned to Hook when I heard him chuckle. He was watching Reilly, who was now standing alone on the dock several yards back, a smug smile on his face.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"I saw what you did down there." His eyes twinkled when he looked at me. He leaned casually against the side of the ship. "Pushing the lovesick lad away? I didn't think you had it in you, love."

"I didn't push him," I argued, but I could feel my cheeks getting hot. "It just… took me by surprise."

Hook's chuckling died out, and his smug smile quickly turned into a flirtatious smirk, one eyebrow arching as he quickly glanced over me. Every place his eyes went, I felt goosebumps rise on my skin and color continued to fill my cheeks.

"You know, the only time I've ever seen a lady do that is when she just doesn't feel the same way for the poor bastard; when her heart is set on someone else."

My stomach did a frantic summersault, and I prayed that he couldn't read my face. "There isn't someone else," I breathed, already tasting the strong sea air. My words felt as weak as I did.

"You sure?" Hook practically purred and he took a step closer to me. His right hand found my hip, much like it had yesterday morning in Nora's shop. His thumb began tracing the same pattern as it had been before and I felt my knees go weak. I tried to blame it on the ship as it slowly made its way farther and farther from Starryview's shore, but I knew better. "Because I think that our little moment back in my quarters yesterday says differently. You know, before we were so rudely interrupted?"

My breath caught in my throat and I gripped the railing of the ship tightly with one hand. My eyes fell to the churning water below and I felt my stomach flip again, this time with the threat of sea sickness. I clamped my eyes shut and took a deep breath through my nose.

I didn't have to open my eyes to know he had stepped closer. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, smell the spices and the rum on his breath as he leaned down to whisper in my ear, "We could finish that moment back in my quarters right now if you'd like."

It felt like my entire body was on fire. A warmth blossomed in the deepest parts of my stomach in a way I had never felt before. I was shaking as my heart seemed to throw itself against my ribcage.

There was nothing I wanted more than to finish that moment between Hook and I, but I couldn't. Not when I knew what I was to him.

A pawn. A bargaining chip. Another foolish girl willing to throw herself at him whenever he said the right words.

The fire on my skin turned into an inferno as the warmth in my stomach turned to ice. I was still shaking, but it wasn't from nerves.

It was with anger.

He snaked his arm around my waist, similar to the way Reilly had, and then I was pressed against him, our bodies moulding together in a way that could trick me into thinking I actually belonged there.

"What do you say, love?" His voice was in my ear again, deep and velvety soft. His lips brushed my ear and I had to suppress the urge to shiver.

 _You are his ticket to freedom,_ I screamed at myself. _Nothing more._

 _"_ No," I croaked as I felt hot tears begin to burn behind my eyes.

He pulled back, shocked. "What?"

I made myself open my eyes, knowing that the tears were going to fall regardless of whether I wanted them to or not. I made myself meet his eyes. "I said _no."_

When I stepped out of his grip, he looked confused and hurt. I didn't understand why he looked that way. He should know, shouldn't he?

"Holly," he asked, taking a step towards me, "what's wrong?"

I matched his step, making sure to keep the distance between us. "N-nothing," I stated, trying so hard not to give into the feeling of my heart breaking. "Just don't."

He knitted his brows together but didn't take another step. "Don't what?" he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"Don't act like you care about me!" It came out as a shout, causing the whole crew to pause and look at us. "Don't you dare act like I'm anything more to you than the ticket to your freedom!"

Distantly, I heard Porter order the crew to get back to work, to give Hook and I some privacy.

Understanding dawned on Hook's face. He knew _exactly_ what I meant.

"Holly—" my name came out soft as he looked at me with pleading eyes, "— that isn't true. That is the _farthest_ thing from the truth."

"But you told Marie—"

"I didn't tell Marie anything, Holly," he hissed. "I let Marie believe what she wanted, and if that was that I was going to parade you around in Fairedge to get my ransom, then I was going to let her think that."

I glared at him, trying to convince myself that if I acted angry that I could stay angry. But it was tough when he looked so torn, when his words sounded like the truth.

"So you lied to her." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Hook said, exasperated. "I lied to Marie."

I could feel my anger crumbling. "Why?" I asked, my grip on the ship causing splinters to sink into my palm.

He took a breath and opened his mouth to answer, but he came up short. He snapped his jaw shut and looked down at the spot on the deck between us. His hook rested on the railing of the ship as he thought long and hard about his answer, but I was growing impatient.

" _Why?"_ I asked again, but my voice no longer held any venom, just genuine curiosity.

When Hook brought his eyes back up to me, there was a solid determination swirling in his gaze. His jaw was set as he grabbed my hand and began to pull me along behind him. "I'll show you." His words floated back to me on the breeze.

Nerves battled against curiosity as he pulled me towards the back of the ship and towards a familiar door that blended in perfectly with the rest of the ship.

Hook's quarters.

I pulled on his hand, silently asking him to stop and look at me, but by then it was too late. He let go of my hand just long enough to open the door before grabbing me again and dragging me inside.

"Thomas, just tell me—"

He whirled on me so fast that I ran right into him. My hands came up to his chest to steady myself while his left arm wrapped around me. We were just barely inside the door, but with lightening speed, he reached behind me and swung the door shut.

And then he was pressing my back against the closed door, his chest pinning me in as his hand came down to cup the back of my neck. His eyes were blazing with something I had never seen in Hook before, and it was both beautiful and terrifying.

The kiss was firm, but his lips were soft. The stubble on his face scratched at my skin, but it felt _good_ , and I felt my eyes fluttering shut before I could even think about pushing him away.

In fact, I pulled him closer. I wrapped my fingers around the leather of his coat collar and pressed myself even tighter against him, ignoring the screaming in my mind that told me I was being foolish.

A groan of approval rumbled in his chest, and I couldn't help but smile into his lips.

When his fingertips made their way into my hair, I shivered. My entire body was a sensitive mess, and I was so giddy that I could feel myself shaking. If Hook hadn't been holding me around the waist, I probably would have melted into the floor.

It seemed that Hook was making up for lost time. The kisses were long and deliberate and were leaving me more and more breathless each time he'd pull away to catch his breath before returning for more.

Hours could have passed and it still would have been too soon for him to pull away.

When he finally pulled back enough to look at me, I couldn't help the whine that escaped my lips. I instantly flushed, embarrassed that I had made such a sound, but Hook only chuckled.

I could feel the rumble in his chest as he pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead before resting his forehead against mine. One arm still held me up, and his fingers still explored my hair. "I know, love," he whispered. "I know."

"Marie would be so disappointed if she could see us right now," I whispered back with a giggle, feeling smug.

"I cannot believe that after something as wonderful as _that_ that you're talking about Marie."

We both laughed at that and he pressed another kiss to my lips. The hand that had been tangled in my hair slid down my arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake, before taking my hand, entwining our fingers, and bringing them to his mouth.

"Bringing you to Fairedge was never about getting my ransom," he whispered, his voice a bit raspy.

"No?" I asked, breathless, but there wasn't a single part of me that believed he wasn't telling me the truth.

"I wanted you in Fairedge with me so we could spend some time together, away from Marie and Reilly and everyone else. Every _thing_ else.

"I know it's not much," he continued. "Fairedge certainly isn't any place for a princess, but it's the safest place besides Starryview that I could think of. It's the last place I think Pan would look for you. And Fairedge will have any news on Pan and the Lost Boy's whereabouts, and any news on your father."

He looked embarrassed, unable to meet my eyes as he talked about our destination, and while I had heard my own fair share of stories about Fairedge from my father and just about everyone else in Mystasia, the fact that Hook only wanted to take me there to keep me safe while spending time alone with me at the same time made me smile.

And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't dying to hear any news about my father and my home.

I pressed a kiss to his lips. He hummed his surprise, both his eyebrows shooting up momentarily before he relaxed into the kiss.

A timid knock broke the spell that seemed to have settled over Hook and I and he groaned.

"Yes?" he asked, loud enough for whoever was on the other side of the door to hear him without having to open the door I was pressed against.

"I-I'm sorry to interrupt, Captain," Smee's voice leaked through the wood, "but we await your orders."

"I'll be right out," Hook said, his gaze never leaving mine. Then, softer, "I swear this ship would sink without me." He tried to sound serious, but his grin gave him away.

"That's why _you're_ the captain," I smirked as I pressed a finger into his chest.

My heart slammed into my ribcage as he mirrored my smirk, his eyes twinkling in a way that made my knees weak. "I love it when you use my title, love," he admitted, his voice holding the smallest hint of a growl. "I could get used to it."

I was speechless. His tone had completely wiped away my spontaneous moment of playfulness.

At my lack of a comeback, he chuckled before pressing one last, lingering kiss to my lips. "Best get back to my crew then," he said, and I could tell that he was a bit disappointed. "Don't go anywhere."

"I wouldn't dream of it," I breathed as he spun me around so he could open the door.

"Good. Or else I'd just have to come take you back." He winked.

And then he was gone, and I was left alone to contemplate how I, a princess and the heir to my father's throne, had fallen head over heels with an infamous pirate captain.


	29. Chapter 29

Fairedge was a three day ship ride away, which meant that there was a lot of downtime when the wind wasn't giving the crew problems and when the sky was clear.

For Hook and the crew, that meant a lot of dice, cards, and drinking. For me, it meant trying not to get sick each time the boat rocked.

As the sun finally fell behind the horizon, a few of the crew members stopped their games long enough to light some lanterns, bathing the deck of the ship in a golden glow. By now, most of the sickness had subsided, and I found myself sitting atop a barrel at a makeshift table with Langley, Fane, Smee, Porter, and Hook as they played a long game of poker. A small pile of copper coins sat in the middle of the table with an occasional silver, a couple of Hook's rings, and what looked like a rabbit's foot.

"What do you think, love?" Hook asked me, leaning closer and showing me his cards. "Think I should go all in?"

I pretended to study the cards, but Hook knew as well as I did that I had no idea how to play poker. I had watched them play, watched what cards were in what hands that Hook played and the ones he threw away, but I still had no clue.

"Um…" Not wanting to make a fool of myself, I shrugged and ducked my head, feeling the blush beginning to heat the tips of my ears.

The coolness of his hook beneath my chin was something I was becoming accustomed to, but it didn't stop the goosebumps from rising on my arms.

"I trust you," he said, a small smile on his lips. "Just tell me yes or no."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Porter pretend to gag. It made Smee chuckle, and even Langley's shoulders shook as he laughed, but Hook and I didn't pay them any mind. In fact, if the twinkle in his eye was any indication, he was loving it.

And so was I.

"Yes," I answered with a bit more confidence.

He leaned in and brushed his lips against mine before pulling back slightly. "That's my girl," he praised before he turned his focus back to the game. "I'm all in, boys," Hook declared as he threw a few more silver coins into the pile. He also pulled a simple, silver key from around his neck and dropped it in.

Porter whistled, a wicked grin spreading over his lips as Fane's eyes went wide.

"Feeling lucky, Captain?" Porter asked.

Hook seemed unfazed, almost bored. He nodded. "Sure am. Whoever wins this hand takes all, including one night sleeping in my quarters."

"Make it a week," Fane piped up.

Hook didn't miss a beat. "Deal."

Fane's smile almost split his face, and I felt myself get nervous. If Hook lost this hand, it would be my fault, and he and I would end up sleeping below deck with the rest of his crew.

"Lay 'em down then, boys!"

Everyone laid their cards down together, each of their eyes darting around the table to glimpse everyone else's hands. I waited patiently, holding my breath.

Porter and Fane both swore and Hook's grin grew.

"A straight flush?" Fane asked.

"Again," Porter answered for Hook, sounding a bit exasperated. "I don't know how you do it, Captain," he said with a shake of his head as he collected the cards from everyone else.

"A hundred years of playing pays off," Langley stated, leaning back in his chair and taking a swig from his cup. He didn't seem nearly as put off at losing the hand and a chance at a luxurious bed.

"A hundred and _fourteen,_ lad," Hook corrected. His right hand found it's way to my knee and squeezed. "I've been playing poker since I was eight."

 _Which makes him 122 years old,_ I thought, the idea seeming outrageous. It was easy to forget that Hook was older than he looked, and I reminded myself to ask him about it all later. It had to be one interesting story…

Porter's chuckle brought me out of my thoughts. "Well, regardless, I'm sick and tired of losing my savings to the likes of you."

Hook's thumb traced circles on the side of my leg as he leaned back in his chair. "Learn to fold then," he quipped with a toothy grin, which Porter returned.

"It's hard when that comfortable bed of yours is on the line!" Everyone chuckled. "You know I can never pass up the opportunity to try and take it from you."

They went on like this for a while; playful banter followed by fake threats and sarcastic retorts. It was hard not to smile as I watched them, but as the moon began to climb higher into the sky, I felt my eyes getting heavy and my yawns becoming more frequent.

"You can't be tired yet, lass," Porter reprimanded. "The night is still far too young!"

"He's right, love," Hook agreed. "Fairedge is still two days away. You'll have plenty of time to sleep." He shot me his famous smirk before pulling me to my feet and pulling me close, leaning down to whisper in my ear, "However, if you insist on retiring for the night, may I suggest we do that… together?"

My heart stumbled at his words, my breath hitching as I tried to remain calm.

To my relief, it didn't seem that he was waiting for an answer. Instead, he kissed the top of my head and then turned his attention to Porter, his fingers tracing small circles in the small of my back.

"Are you sober enough to play your fiddle?" he asked, and Porter glared at him.

"Have I ever _not_ been sober enough to play my fiddle?" Porter and Hook held each other's gaze for a long moment before Porter's lips finally cracked into a smile. He ducked under the table to grab the black box that contained his instrument before he glanced around the deck and shouted, "Who's feelin' a jig?"

Cheers of approval answered him, and Porter waisted no time retrieving his fiddle from the box and greasing up his bow.

The rest of the crew cleared away their make-shift tables and their chairs to make room for dancing. I saw Gresham pull a harmonica from his pocket and another crew member pull out a type of pipe flute. Another drummed on a barrel, trying out the sound before nodding in approval.

It seemed we'd have an entire band playing tonight. I grinned, a laugh bubbling up as the remaining men either stepped onto the floor or leaned against the sides of the ship with their drinks in hand, content to watch the rest of us dance on sea legs.

As Porter lifted the fiddle to his chin, he met my eyes and grinned. It reminded me so much of the smile he gave me the night he played in the pub, and I felt the familiar butterflies rise in my stomach at the thought of dancing.

"Are you gonna just stand there, lass," he crowed, drawing everyone's attention to me, "or are you going to get out here and dance?"

I didn't have time to answer before Smee and an unfamiliar crew member stepped forward and took each of my hands, dragging me out of Hook's arms and back with them to stand in a line across from another group of crew members. When I peeked over my shoulder, I was met with Hook's cerulean eyes. They lit with a smile as he planted himself on top of a barrel. He crossed his arms and shot me a wink before I turned back to Porter.

"What's the dance?" I asked, wiping my palms on my dress.

"Just follow the boys," Porter answered as his bow hovered above the strings.

I swallowed the bundle of nerves in my throat and nodded. I didn't want to make a fool of myself, especially because I didn't know the dance, but I knew that even if I looked foolish, I was amongst friends.

The thought hit me hard, and I had to swallow hard again to keep from getting too emotional.

 _A princess of Mystasia, friends with a bunch of pirates. Father would be furious._

The jig was ruthless. Porter's fingers worked like mad while his bow sawed away. The drumming on the barrels kept a fast, steady rhythm, and Gresham's harmonica floated somewhere in the middle.

Thankfully, the dance itself wasn't as complicated as the jig would suggest. Simple footwork repeated, as well as the clapping and occasional stomp, and the only time I needed to really pay attention to my steps was when the two lines closed the gap between us and I was being twirled and handed off down the line in a criss-cross.

As I made my way down the line, I looked up in time to see Hook stand and shrug out of his coat. He handed it off to Langley, whose toe was tapping despite his serious face, and came to stand at the end of the line.

He started in on the steps, blending in seamlessly, before catching my hand and pulling me close, catapulting us into a spin that made me dizzy.

The jig changed, but no one seemed to notice as they transitioned to the next dance without so much as a pause. While most of the crew continued to dance on their own, stomping and clapping and shouting, a few had picked partners and glided around the deck around Hook and I.

"You know," I said, raising my voice so Hook could hear me above the music and the cheers of the crew, "for 122, you sure know how to lead in a jig."

"I'd have to agree! Not too shabby for an old man!"

We both laughed, our cheeks flushing pink as we danced jig after jig. We probably would have kept on dancing had Hook not pulled me away from the group and pressed his lips hard against mine.

My arms snaked around his neck as I stood on my tiptoes to deepen the kiss, and I'm sure if Hook had pulled me any closer that we would have molded into one person.

His skin was warm even through his shirt, and the nape of his neck was wet with sweat, but I loved it. The way he smelled, the way he tasted… it was something I would never get tired of.

We both broke away at the same time, our chests heaving as we tried to catch our breath.

"Oi! Get a room!" Porter crowed, his fingers and bow never faltering. The crew echoed him as they went about their dancing and drinking.

"Gladly," Hook breathed, looking at me with an unspoken question. I simply nodded as I tried to calm my hammering heartbeat, but even with the blood rushing in my ears, I could still hear the whistles and cheers as Hook and I retreated to his quarters.

If Hook was as nervous as I was, he certainly didn't look the part. I stepped into the room and stood on shaking legs, my palms sweating no matter how many times I wiped them on my dress. Hook, however, locked the door with his silver key, his hands steady as if we weren't alone for the first time since we met in a room that had a bed.

 _The night he escaped the dungeon doesn't count,_ I told myself.

The moonlight that spilled through the window that covered the entire back of the Hook's room left no need for a lantern and bathed everything in a creamy white light. Hook's dark hair looked inky black in comparison to his white shirt, which seemed to glow like the moon. And when he finally turned to face me, his eyes looked like blue fire.

I swear my heart stopped completely when he closed the gap between us in a few short strides and took my face in his hand, his thumb tracing my cheekbone as he stared down at me.

"I will never get tired of the way you look at me, love." His voice had dropped into a low rumble that made me shiver.

"I'll never get tired of looking at you." It came out so quick that I surprised myself, and I quickly tried to duck my head. I was mortified that I had been so openly honest, but Hook's hand was firm and kept my face upward. He smiled, his deep laugh rolling over my skin in waves.

He leaned down suddenly, his lips brushing against mine almost like he was asking for permission. My fingers slowly traced the soft material of his shirt at his chest and slowly slid downward until I could feel the hard muscles of his stomach underneath. Hook shivered, a breathy moan escaping his lips. The sound ignited a fire in my belly that coursed through my veins, and I pressed my lips hard against his before I could let myself second guess anything.

It was all the permission Hook needed, and soon the kisses became heated and desperate. We couldn't get enough of each other.

He cupped the back of my neck, making it impossible to pull away, but pulling away was the last thing on my mind.

Without breaking away, Hook guided me backwards until the back of my knees hit the edge of the bed. Butterflies erupted in my belly and seemed to flutter in the deepest parts of my bones as I sat down and crawled backwards so I was completely on the bed.

My lips felt swollen and full and the edges of my mouth and chin burned from Hook's stubble, but it was a burn that I missed the instant it was gone.

When my shoulders hit the pillows, Hook brought himself to hover above me, each of his arms resting on either side of my head, caging me in.

I reached up and tangled my hands in his shirt, tugging softly. Hook took my hint and lowered himself completely onto me, pinning me beneath him.

"You're so beautiful," he said against my lips in between kisses, and I smiled.

We laid like that for a while, enjoying the feel of each other as we exchanged kisses. At one point, when Hook's tongue flicked out and brushed against my bottom lip, I could feel the fire swell in the deepest parts of my body. I gasped, pulling Hook so close that I couldn't breathe, and Hook's tongue filled my mouth.

His tongue was gentle as it flicked against mine, and I felt myself coming more undone by the minute.

When he finally pulled away— after what only could be described as too soon— his lips were swollen and his cheeks were flushed. We were both breathing hard, our chests pressing together before falling again, but Hook didn't wait to catch his breath before he ducked his head into the crook of my neck and not before I saw how lust-blown his eyes had become.

I tensed for a moment before he pressed a feather-light kiss just below my ear. I sighed and turned my head, happy to give him more to work with. He drew my skin into his mouth and sucked slightly. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to make me gasp.

His smile against my skin was evident. "The noises you make…" He sighed. "You'll be the death of me." His fingers tangled themselves in my hair, pulling slightly whenever I made one of the noises he seemed to enjoy.

His lips fell lower and lower down the curve of my neck, and my heart hammered as I felt Hook shift his weight to his other arm. Slowly, his hook slid beneath the strap of my dress and pulled it down over the curve of my shoulder.

Somewhere in my lust-fogged brain, I realized what was happening, how fast everything was unraveling, and I realized that I wasn't ready.

"Thomas," I breathed, my voice shaking, "wait—"

"Don't worry, love," he whispered against my shoulder, his breath hot on my skin. His stubble rubbed deliciously against my skin as he pressed a firm kiss to my bare shoulder. Then, he propped himself up to look at me. "That's as far as I'm going. Can't have you taking advantage of me now can we?"

I slapped him playfully on the chest as he rolled off of me and propped himself up on his elbow. His hook slid the strap back up my arm before tracing down my arm and resting at my hip.

"I would _never_ dream of taking advantage of you," I said with a smile.

Hook arched an eyebrow. "Oh really? Because I'm positive you _would."_

"You're strong enough to hold me off," I pretended to scoff. "Besides, you're old enough to know all the tricks in the book."

Hook poked me in the side, causing me to giggle as he pretended to look offended. "Quit picking at my age, love! It's very hurtful! Besides—" he wiggled his eyebrows at me, "— 122 is the new 20."

I shook my head and smiled, my head still spinning from the events of the day. Hook and I had gone from bickering to laying on his bed together, our lips swollen from kissing and hair and clothes disheveled from our hands wandering over each other.

Silence descended on us, but it was a comfortable silence. Hook held me close, his hook following my spine down to the small of my back before following it back up to in between my shoulder blades. His eyes traced the outline of my face and lingered on my lips before he met my gaze again and he smiled.

It was impossible not to smile back. In fact, I was certain I would never stop smiling again. As long as I could lay with Hook like this, my hands splayed against his chest as we looked at each other, nothing could touch me.

"What's on your mind, love?" His voice was barely above a whisper even though we were alone in the privacy of his quarters.

I shook my head. "Nothing. It's silly."

"I doubt it," he murmured as he leaned in to kiss my forehead. "Tell me."

I thought for a moment, unsure how to word my question. It was something that had been on my mind for a while, but it was always something that I thought could wait. And it _could_ wait, but with Hook and I laying here, I couldn't help but think about it more.

"Tell me, love," he said again as his hook slipped beneath my chin and he made me meet his eyes.

"How is it…" I trailed off, sure that I was already sounding ridiculous. "How is it that you're…"

Hook arched a brow, prompting me just to spill the question without thinking about it too much.

I sighed. "How is it that you're still… alive? And still so good looking?" I added the last part in an attempt to make the question less daunting, but it didn't seem to work. Hook's smile was fleeting and his eyes suddenly seemed guarded.

He couldn't look me in the eyes as he leaned back cleared his throat. "Does my age bother you?" he asked, his voice holding an edge that I didn't understand.

I propped myself up on my elbow and shook my head. "No, no, no," I assured him in an attempt to backpedal. I had hit a soft spot. I hadn't meant to, and now Hook was retreading back into himself. My chest ached as my mind screamed at me to fix whatever it was that I broken. "I just… I've never met someone who has gone untouched by time. Except Tink of course. I didn't think anyone else, except Peter Pan, could do such a thing.

"I'm sorry," I sighed, feeling foolish, "I didn't mean—"

"It's alright." Hook sighed and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Then, he reached back and grabbed my hand, drawing me over to sit beside him. "I guess I should have known that you'd ask sooner or later."

I entwined our finger and laid my head on his shoulder, desperate to get back to where we had just been, so happy and wrapped up in each other, but it seemed that moment had passed.

 _Way to go, Holly._

"It's quite a long story," he said, and I knew that we were walking a thin line. Hook was giving me another chance to back out, but we both knew that I would wonder about it until it drove me mad.

"Fairedge is still two days away," I said, looking up at him and trying to give him a reassuring smile.

He ducked his head, his eyes falling on our entwined fingers as he ran his thumb back and forth over my skin. "I'm afraid you wouldn't think very highly of me if I told you this story." His voice was firm, unwavering, but I could detect the worry beneath his words.

"Well," I sighed, "I guess it's a good thing I don't think very highly of you anyway. You know, with you being a devious pirate captain and all; kidnapping unsuspecting princesses from their rooms in the middle of the night." He looked up at me and I shot him a wink. Slowly, his mask cracked, and he gave me a small, sad smile.

The smile didn't last though, and he turned his eyes to a spot on the wall across the room. His blue eyes flicked back and forth, as if he was searching for the right answer on the wall. I let him search, let him think. This was obviously not easy for him. His palm had become sweaty and his grip had tightened on my hand.

"Well," he said before clearing his throat, "believe it or not, once upon a time, I wasn't a _devious pirate captain."_ He tried to smile, but it didn't meet his eyes. " And I didn't always hate Peter Pan. In fact…" he licked his lips and swallowed hard, as if his next words threatened to choke him. I squeezed his hand to reassure him, but I could myself shaking as my skin went cold and clammy at Peter's name.

"In fact…" I prompted, my voice hardly audible as I felt his words looming over me like a tidal wave that was about to come crashing down.

Maybe this _was_ a bad idea.

He took a steadying breath and squared his shoulders. "In fact, I used to think that Peter and I were friends and I… I used to be a proud Lost Boy."


	30. Chapter 30

Down came the wave.

"Love?" Hook's voice seemed muted, and there was a ringing in my ears that set me on edge. My mind wrestled with my heart as I tried to figure out whether I should stay or leave. "Love, look at me. _Please_ look at me."

Slowly, I turned my gaze to his. I felt a pang of guilt in my chest as it tightened.

He looked destroyed; guilt riddling his bright eyes, dark circles hanging beneath them. He squeezed my hand tight, his hand slick with cold sweat. He had gone pale, and the corded muscles of his neck were pulled tight.

Despite what he had just said, I couldn't help but reach up and cup his face. My thumb brushed across his cheek, and he let out a shuddering breath as he leaned into my touch.

"I'm sorry," I whispered as I gripped his hand tight and leaned my forehead against his. "It was just a shock is all. It's alright," I assured him. He nodded and swallowed hard.

"I didn't know what he was like," he stated after a few beats of silence. "I didn't know what being a Lost Boy entailed." His voice was steady, but it was laced with an anger and betrayal that ran deeper than I think I could ever understand. "But even if I did," he admitted, his voice wavering slightly, "I don't think I would have done any of it differently."

 _That_ shocked me. I pulled back to look at him, to search his face. "What do you mean?"

One corner of his mouth twitched up in a sad smile. "Like I said, it's—"

"A long story," I finished for him and nodded. "I know, but I want to hear it. I _need_ to hear it, Thomas. I need to understand."

He watched me carefully, thinking. His tongue flicked out to lick the sweat that had begun to bead on his upper lip before he wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Help me understand, Thomas. _Please._ _"_

 _For a moment, I was sure he wasn_ _'_ _t going to speak, but then, slowly, he nodded, his eyes dropping again to our joined hands._

Hook was an orphan. His father had drown at sea when he was seven, and his mother had died a year later when the town they lived in was bombarded by a terrible sickness.

"We both had it," Hook explained, his eyes far away. "It was a nasty sickness; fevers that cooked you alive, blood coming out of your nose and your ears… And it was _painful._ Even though I was hardly awake through it, I still felt it for weeks afterward." He sighed and let go of my hand before running his hand over his face and over the back of his neck.

I stayed silent but put my head on his shoulder as he continued his story.

"Somehow, I pulled through it. I woke up a week and a half later smelling of sweat and piss everything else to a neighbor dabbing my face with a cold cloth. She gave me water and what little food she could spare, but it was enough to get me on the road to recovery. She told me she wanted to try and give me a fighting chance if she could.

"My mother wasn't so lucky." His voice had dropped to a croaked whisper, and I felt my heart break at his words. He had started fidgeting with his hook, one knee bouncing as he swallowed hard a few times, unable to speak for a moment. His head was bowed so I couldn't see his face, but I imagined him trying to hold back tears for his mother that had died over a century ago.

 _What a long time to have no mother,_ I thought and felt my own throat begin to close.

We sat in silence for several long minutes before Hook finally took a deep breath and looked up, but I didn't ask him to say more. He would tell what he could, but I wasn't going to prod. Who knows how long it had been since he'd told this story, if he had at all.

After his mother died, Hook was on his own. Many had lost their lives, and there wasn't anyone in their town that hadn't known someone who had been taken by the sickness, but it seemed that the families with sick children had been hit the hardest. Parents, who had tried everything they could to save their children or ease their pain, had fallen sick themselves. One by one, they all seemed to perish.

All that was left were those who were wealthy enough that they could hole themselves up in their homes and those that kept their distance once the sickness had begun to spread.

Hook had been one of the few children who had been hit with the sickness and survived, but no one was willing to take him in.

"They all had their own troubles," Hook explained with a shrug, but I could tell by the clench of his jaw that he didn't believe his own words. I didn't either. To them, he was just an orphaned child with no money and, therefore, a waste of time and energy.

Nearby villages and towns had been hit by the same sickness, and in the following weeks, many migrated to Hook's town, bringing other orphaned children without the skills to get a job.

They were instantly drawn to one another, and soon became a tight-knit group of children that learned to pickpocket and gamble in order to feed themselves. Many found them to be a nuisance, but most felt bad enough for them that the boys usually didn't face any serious punishment when they were caught.

"We knew who it was safe to steal from; who wouldn't lash us or demand our fingers be taken."

I gaped at him, hoping beyond hope that he wasn't serious, but he only gave another shrug, as if getting your fingers cut off for trying to feed yourself was a normal occurrence.

I suppose to them, it was.

"Trust me, love, it happens more than you know. Even in kingdoms like yours." His words stung, but I didn't have time to linger on them as Hook continued with his story.

Over the next two years, boys came and went. Most of them were younger than Hook, but there were a few that were his age. They quickly became the leaders, the ones responsible for their makeshift family.

"Some of the lads died of starvation when things were rough," Hook explained. "Sometimes it took days to win some money or to arrange a strategy to pickpocket in the market. Sometimes it took longer, and every day we went without food was another day that we got weaker.

"Some died from the heat or the cold, and others just got sick."

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and Hook began to wonder if any of them would survive another winter.

That's when Peter Pan came to their rescue.

"He showed up in the middle of the night one night, and he promised that we would never go hungry again. All we had to do was come with him. It seemed too good to be true, but when we asked what he really wanted from us, all he said was that he wanted to help. He said that there was a place for boys like us; those of us that were thrown away and forgotten by everyone else.

"We were so tired and so hungry, that we agreed. All ten of us."

Peter kept his word and took them all back to the island where they were greeted by a group of Lost Boys and a peculiar girl with blonde curls and honey eyes.

My eyes widened. "Tink?"

A sad smile appeared on Hook's face and he nodded. "The very same. And although I was still a young lad then, she looked exactly as she does now."

It was obvious from the start that Tink and Peter were close. She hardly left his side, except for when it was time for her to return to her people once the sun began to set.

"She loved Peter," Hook stated sadly as he shook his head. "It was foolish of her to, but she did."

My stomach sank. I knew how that story ended. And now, knowing that Tink's feelings ran deeper for Peter than she ever cared to share with me… It made my heart ache for her.

For six years, Hook and the group of boys that Peter rescued adjusted. They played games and learned how to hunt. They all had their own tents and their own beds and, true to his word, Pan never let them go hungry. For six years, everything seemed perfect.

"I should have known it was too good to last," Hook whispered, staring down at his hand and hook.

"What happened?" I asked gently.

Hook was silent for several moments, his eyes glued on his hook as he twirled it this way and that. "A lot of things happened, Holly," he said with a sad sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. "Peter and a few of the older boys revealed something dangerous, something that none of us really understood. Not even Tink understood completely," he admitted, sounding defeated, "and she didn't like it, but Peter insisted that we were old enough to know."

The deeper we plunged into this conversation, the more I realized I was in over my head. I wanted to comfort him, wanted him to know that I was there to listen, but I wasn't sure how, and I wasn't sure I wanted to listen anymore.

It was too much.

I couldn't think of Peter as being a normal boy, a boy who only wanted to play games and keep his friends safe and warm and fed. I couldn't think of him as someone who was capable of being loved _by_ someone, especially if that person was Tink. It made him human, which made it harder to label him the monster I thought he was.

 _The monster he_ is, I reminded myself.

Hook peeked at me out of the corner of his eye, his blue eyes still searching even through the sadness. I tried my best to give him a smile. "Tink's people called it blood magic."

My smile disappeared. "W-What?"

I had heard stories of blood magic, but they had always been stories. But the stories alone had been gruesome. I couldn't imagine what the truth of blood magic must be like.

"It's much worse than the stories," Hook stated as if reading my mind.

"I'd imagine," I croaked, trying to brush off the darkness that was quickly finding its way into our conversation, when all I wanted was to ask how he knew such things.

"And when Tink found out that Peter was in on it too, that he had been in on it from the beginning, it broke her heart."

Maybe Peter made him watch. Maybe Peter and the older boys told stories of their experiences.

 _Maybe he took part._ The thought made me feel sick, made me want to cry. Hook was better than that, stronger than that. Stronger than Pan and the Lost Boys.

"There's an old story," Hook's voice broke through my thoughts, "that many believe just to be a legend, something to scare children into behaving."

"Oh?" I asked, feeling breathless as our story continued to branch off in new and dark directions. "What about?"

Hook laughed, but the sound was dry and without humor. "A crocodile," he stated as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. Then our eyes locked. "And an incessant ticking noise."

My mind flashed back to the night on the beach, to the night that Hook admitted to me that he had nightmares too, just like me.

About a crocodile. And an incessant ticking noise.

The crocodile in this particular story was a giant beast that would lurk in the rivers and the ocean around the Never Isles and tempt anyone it could into giving a sacrifice. It promised to give you the person's remaining years of life, and with that life came energy and strength.

It was almost as if the crock was reversing the effects of time, and not just putting off the inevitable.

The story was mostly used as a ploy to make naughty children behave. Most parents would threaten that if a child didn't shape up that they would feed them to the croc and they themselves would gain a whole new life.

As if the crocodile's size and powers weren't strange enough, many claimed that the croc made a distinct noise that could be heard long before it appeared. Many described the sound to be that of a clock.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

 _"_ _Many say that the sound is a reminder that our lives are ticking away bit by bit, but that the crocodile can stop them from ever giving out._ _"_

I nodded as he finished the tale, a bit unsure how it tied into Peter Pan and the Lost Boys and blood magic. But below my doubt, there was a growing uneasiness. "I've heard that story. A few of the servants used to tell it to John and I when we were young."

Hook's eyes grew hard as he turned his body so he was facing me. The look he gave me made the hairs on my arms stand up on end, and my mind screamed at me that whatever said next, it wouldn't be something I wanted to hear.

"It's not a story, Holly. The crocodile is the farthest thing from a legend. He's real, and he's dangerous, and he's all the monster he is in the stories and more."

If he hadn't looked so serious, I would have thought he was trying to pull my leg, but there was no hint of humor as he said it. He was telling the truth.

According to Hook, the crocodile wasn't just some animal. It was a creature that had been around longer than Peter Pan himself and had been lurking around the Never Isles long before any of our ancestors.

Many used to worship the crocodile as some sort of god, and once word caught on about its "gift", people became almost mad with blood lust, willing to kill just about anybody for a few more years of life.

And as the people became greedy, so did the crocodile.

It wasn't until bodies began becoming scarce that people were purged of their lust for life.

"People began to realize that they had killed their friends, their neighbors, their entire families," Hook explained, a shadow casting itself over his words, "all for nothing. They were doomed to live the rest of their lives alone, and the paradise they thought they would gain from it all soon became a prison sentence.

"And when _that_ became too much…" Hook trailed off and shook his head. "No one survived it."

I gasped. "You don't mean—?"

"Aye, love—" Hook wrung his hand around his hook, "—I do. They did the only thing that they thought would be punishment enough; the only way they thought that their gods would forgive them."

We sat in heavy silence, Hook's words hanging the air between us. They were words I'd never forget.

The crocodile disappeared after that, and slowly became the subject of scary stories and legends. But even as time buried the crocodile and those dark years away, there were still a few who believed in the croc, and even fewer who sought it out.

"Pan was one of them, wasn't he?" I asked, my voice sounding small.

Hook nodded. "Aye. But unlike everyone else, once Peter had found the croc, he never tired of the crocs demands for more blood. Eventually, just as before, Peter had sacrificed everyone he knew. Lifetimes past, Pan stayed untouched by time, and he continued on with his sacrifices. No one was safe as long as they had years of life left in them."

My stomach felt like it was turning inside out as I thought about how many lives Peter had thrown away for his own gain. Hundreds? Thousands?

I could feel my hands growing clammy as a cold sweat began to form on the back of my neck and across my forehead. I wiped my hands on my dress as Hook's eyes filled with concern. His brows drew together and he reached out to gently rub my arm. I gave him a weak smile, which he returned, and I couldn't help but wonder if Hook felt as sick to his stomach as I did.

A thick cloud of silence settled over Hook and I once more as I thought over his story and everything that he had been through. To go from hungry and unwanted to protected and full…

To spend _so many_ years living with the knowledge of who Peter really was…

114 years. More than a lifetime.

Then, something clicked.

A realization rose up from the foggy silence, and it demanded that I pay attention. Hook hadn't spoken the words, but he didn't need to. I knew what he wasn't saying.

I moved out of his grasp, wrestling with disgust and heartbreak as I stared at him. He flinched at my realization.

His face fell as he drew in a shaky breath, and I swear that I saw his eyes mist over with tears. He reached for me again, but this time I stood, my world spinning dangerously as I tried to put some distance between us. "Holly, love, please just listen—"

"Y-You…" I fished for the right words, but nothing seemed appropriate. "P-Please tell me that I-I'm wrong." My voice quivered, and before I knew it, tears were spilling onto my cheeks for all those boys who had died at the hands of Peter.

At the hands of all those Lost Boys.

At the hands of Hook.

People became almost mad with blood lust, willing to kill just about anybody for a few more years of life.

 _And with that life came energy and strength._

 _I thought of the day that Hook was brought into the throne room, when he attacked the guard that had kicked him to the ground. The speed. The power. My father had spoken about it._

"I would have thought the effects would have faded over time." He had meant the blood magic, but I didn't know it then.

And then there was the fleeting moment on Hook's face that he looked filled with regret. _"I used to think so too, mate._ _"_

 _How many years had he spent waiting for time to move forward again only to be disappointed when it didn_ _'_ _t?_

"Thomas, _please!_ _"_ I knew begging was pathetic, but I didn't want Hook to be the same monster that Peter was.

Hook's shoulders slumped in defeat and he let out a sound that I could only describe as a choked sob. "Holly, I'm not proud of what I did—"

A sob ripped through me as I brought my hands up into my hair. Hook bit his lip and ducked his head, his shoulders shaking as he tried to take deep breaths.

I steadied myself against his desk, my knees threatening to buckle if I didn't, and watched him.

"How many?" My words came out a pained whisper. Hook didn't lift his eyes to me; he only shook his head. Anger flared hot in my gut as I asked again, "How _many,_ Thomas?"

"I don't know!" he shouted, his head snapping up as he looked at me. Tears left trails down his cheeks and into the scruff along his jaw as he ran his hand through his hair. "I don't know," he said again, his voice breaking at the end. He repeated those three words over and over, the tears coming faster as he cradled his head in his hand.

All the anger that flared up in me vanished in a puff of steam as I watched him crumble, and I felt myself deflate.

Slowly, I made my way back over to Hook, my legs unsteady as I came to stand in front of him. With shaking hands, I gently carded my fingers through his hair.

Even with the knowledge of what he'd done, I still couldn't see him as a monster.

 _Maybe I_ _'_ _m foolish,_ I thought fleetingly. _Just like Tink._

His reaction was instantaneous. Strong arms circled my waist and pulled me to him as he buried his face into my stomach. I could feel his hot breath through the material of my dress as he continued to cry, his tears leaving dark stains on the soft cotton. With each shake of his shoulders, I could feel my chest tighten a little more, as if someone was pulling harder and harder at a knot they didn't know how to undo.

As the minutes passed, his sobs seemed to subside, and I felt the pressure in my chest lift a little. Hook leaned into me heavily, his arms becoming heavy around my waist, but I didn't dare step away. He needed me, and I would _not_ abandon him, regardless of what I knew now.

I slowly sank to my knees in front of him, careful not jostle him too much, and took his face in my hands. His cheeks were wet and glistening from the tears and his eyes were rimmed with red. He was broken and vulnerable and so unsure.

Words failed to come to me, so I did the only thing that I could think of.

I kissed him, sweet and slow and with no trace of hesitation.

More tears spilled onto his face and over my fingers as he kissed me back, his shoulders relaxing as he sighed with relief. Then he pulled me to him, our bodies pressing together in a safe embrace even as the floor of his quarters dug into my knees.

"I'm not that boy anymore," he whispered almost pleadingly in between kisses. "I haven't been for a long, long time. I promise, Holly, I—"

I silenced him with a long kiss. "I know," I whispered back in a soothing voice. "I know."

"I have so much blood on my hands. Innocent blood."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I know."

His eyes bore into mine as his words rang loud in my ears and fluttered around my head. "I don't…" He took in a shaky breath, and I felt his grip around me tighten, as if I might slip away if he didn't hold on tight enough. "I don't _deserve_ this. I don't deserve you or your kindness. After all I've put you through, after all you've learned about me; about the monster I am." I opened my mouth to protest as his eyes went hard and the traces of storm clouds darkened his eyes, but his next words stopped me. "I'm no better than Pan."

"Yes, you are." The words were quiet, but by the shocked gleam in his eyes, I'm sure they sounded as loud to Hook as if I had shouted them. "You're better," I pushed on, "because you _stopped_. Because you feel remorse. A monster doesn't feel remorse for what he's done. Pan's the monster, not you." And as I said the words, I felt not trace of a lie on my tongue. Hook had left Pan and the Lost Boys behind, had somehow escaped Pan's clutches. I may not know how he did it, but all the mattered to me was that he did. "Besides," I curled my fingers in the short hairs at the nape of his neck as I felt my heart flutter, "I could never fall in love with a monster."

He stiffened, as I figured he would, and his eyes grew large as they darted over my face, looking for any inkling that I may be pulling a cruel joke.

But I wasn't, and I wouldn't take it back.

I was in love with him, and there was no reason for me to deny it anymore. Hook had just spilled his heart and soul to me, so why couldn't I do the same?

"You mean that?" he asked, sounding so terrified that it made my heart ache. His muscles were tense, waiting to spring away should I deny him, and his face was like stone. But as much as he tried to hide it, there was a flame of hope in his blue eyes, and it made me smile.

I nodded and my skin ignited as I blushed. My heart hammered so hard that I was sure it would stop, but it didn't stop me from saying what I wanted to.

"I love you, Thomas."

And just like that, the springs in his muscles uncoiled. His guarded expression cracked, and his eyes shone brighter than I had ever seen them. It was hard to believe that his expression was ever clouded by anger or grief.

In that moment before he scooped me up placed me on the bed again, before he crawled over me and kissed me with a fierceness that took the breath from my lungs but filled me with a warmth that I only ever felt when his lips were on mine, I caught a glimpse of the boy who he used to be before. Before Peter and the Lost Boys, before the crocodile, before starving and struggling to survive. I caught a glimpse of the boy who had lost his father at sea but was still able to find beauty and adventure in the waters that took him. I saw the boy who loved his mother the way only a son can.

I saw the boy that deserved so much to live a happy, care-free life.

And if this could be the start of that, even if it was a lifetime late, then I wanted to be the one to give it to him.

I _would_ give it to him.

And no one, not even Peter Pan himself, was going to stop me.


	31. Chapter 31

Hook pressed a soft kiss to the back of my neck as his arm tightened around my middle. I smiled as goosebumps rose on my skin and turned over to my other side to face him.

"I'm sorry," he rasped, his voice plagued with sleep, "I thought you were sleeping."

I shook my head. "I was for a while."

His eyes drooped shut as his brows drew together and his fingers traced lightly up my side. "Is everything alright, love?"

"Yes," I said with a small smile. The way he sounded when he was tired… it made my breath catch.

Without opening his eyes, he pulled me against his chest and ducked his head to kiss me lazily on the lips. "It's late you know," he stated, "and we've got a long day of sailing ahead of us."

"You mean that _you_ —" I poked him in the chest, "—have a long day of sailing ahead you."

He chuckled, the sound resonating low in his chest. The sound vibrated under my fingers, kicking my heart into a gallop as I stared at him. My eyes traveled from his lidded eyes and over his slightly crooked nose; then down to his lips, slightly parted as his breathing came in deep, even waves.

I was certain he had fallen back asleep, but when my eyes came back up to his, I was staring into the ocean his eyes held, and I felt my cheeks flush.

"Don't be shy, love," he jabbed. "I mean, you're lying in _my_ bed and you're wearing _my_ clothes. What's there to be shy about?"

My cheeks suddenly felt like they were on fire. Hook had offered me one of his shirts to wear the previous night, and I was still a bit shy about it. It showed a bit more of my legs than a regular nightgown, but it was softer and not as constricting as the dress I had been wearing.

"I _love_ the way you look in my clothes," Hook practically purred in my ear before he kissed up my jaw. My breath hitched, and I felt the smile spread over his lips as he rolled on top of me and buried his face in my neck.

I clutched at his shoulders as his tongue traced a line down the side my neck.

"I thought you were tired," I teased, but it was cut short when he nipped at the sensitive skin over my pulse point and I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulder.

"I _am_ tired," he insisted with a pout, "but it's hard to sleep when I know the beautiful woman next to me isn't sleeping. I feel like I should keep her company."

"I'll fall back asleep… eventually," I added when Hook arched an unbelieving eyebrow at me. "I'm not used to sleeping on a ship," I said in my defense, and Hook just chuckled and shook his head.

"It's always something with you, isn't it?" He rolled off me then, propping himself up on his elbow as he pretended to scrutinize me.

I gasped dramatically, feigning offense. "How dare you? I think I've adjusted very well, thank you very much!"

We both laughed, and by the time we both calmed down, our cheeks were flushed pink and my sides hurt.

"Adjusted?" he asked, peering down at me with a smile, "Or settled?" At the last part, his tone shifted and the playfulness in his eyes dimmed. He had tried to be playful, but something in his question told me that he needed a serious answer and not a jab.

I propped myself up on my elbow, mirroring Hook, but he wouldn't meet my eyes. "What do you mean?"

Hook just shook his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so serious."

But I wasn't going to let it drop. Although I didn't pester him or pressure him to tell me, I stared hard at him, willing him to look up at me. When he did, I arched an eyebrow.

 _Talk to me,_ I willed him with my thoughts, and I hoped that he could read it in my eyes.

Hook sighed and ducked his head again, his hook coming up to scratch at the scruff on his jaw as he seemed to think about his words. Then, when his eyes drifted up to mine, he looked like himself again; eyes shining, a smirk on his face.

He reached out slowly and traced his hook across my cheek and down my jaw. "Your father might think you're settling."

The thought was equally terrifying and hilarious to me. Of course my father would think I was settling. Hook was a pirate captain, and I wanted one at that. And I was royalty. No such union had ever even been dreamed up before this. Before us.

But the hilarity won out, and a smile stretched my face so much that my cheeks hurt. A laugh bubbled in my gut before rushing up through my lips, the feeling filling my whole body with a soft warmth.

To my delight, it seemed to be contagious because Hook smiled too, and the seriousness that had flashed in his eyes before melted away.

"A princess and a pirate aren't exactly a traditional couple," he stated as he chuckled.

"I think my family is past the point of being traditional," I commented before wrapping my fingers in the front of his shirt and kissing him deeply.

Hook hummed his approval, but was cut short when a knock came at the door.

I sighed. I was getting sick of the interruptions coming at the worst possible times.

"Yes?" Hook asked, rubbing his eyes.

"We've got an hour before dawn, Captain," came Fane's voice under the door. "The crew is starting to stir, and they'll need orders."

"I'll be right out," Hook said, and the shadows beneath the door disappeared. True to his word, the crew could be heard climbing above deck. They were grumbling and moving about, getting ready for another day of sailing. If the sailing went smooth today, Hook said we'd be in Fairedge just as the sun was setting.

"You best be getting a move on, Captain," I said, running a hand through his hair.

Hook groaned and leaned into my touch. "Can't I just stay in bed with you? I'm sure the lads would understand." When I shook my head, he groaned again. "Fine," he pretended to huff before he leaned down to kiss my forehead. "Get some extra sleep for me."

I grinned. "Happily."

We shared one last kiss before Hook rolled out of bed, his night clothes rumpled and his hair sticking out at odd angles. He ran his hand through his hair, fixing the mess before changing into a new shirt and slipping on his boots. He threw on his long coat and made his way to the door, throwing one last smile over his shoulder at me before slipping out the door.

Even long after I had relaxed back into the pillows and snuggled tighter under the blankets to get a few more hours of sleep, I couldn't calm my racing heart.

###

"There she is, Lass," Langley stated, and my eyes shot up from our game of dice. I quickly swallowed the nausea that rose in me as sea sickness made my world tilt, but I had to admit that it _was_ getting better after a few days at sea.

"It sure doesn't look like much," I admitted, and I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fading light.

"It's not," Gresham huffed, coming to stand next to Langley and I, "but it's got cheap booze and even cheaper wenches, so no one's complaining." He gave me a black toothed smile that made my stomach twist, but as long as he was being his own version of friendly, I didn't care.

"I suppose." It was hard to keep the disgust to a minimum as I resisted the urge to crinkle my nose.

Hook's voice boomed out over the ship, startling us all. "I need all hands ready! We're going to be docking soon, and I don't want the wood knocked to all hell like last time!" The entire crew echoed their understanding before jumping into action, and pretty soon, I was caught in the hustle and bustle and had no idea where to go. Thankfully, Hook came to my rescue, motioning for me to join him at the ship's wheel. I didn't waste any time weaving through the current of men and climbing the stairs, the leather boots that Nora gave me clunking heavily on the wood.

I had changed into the clothes she had given me, and I had been surprised at how well they fit. The black trousers fit snugly against my hips and down my legs while the white shirt billowed around me like a cloud. It wasn't my normal attire, but it was definitely something I could get used to wearing. A girl could _breathe_ and _move_ in these clothes!

Hook's jaw was set in determination as he kept his hand and hook steady at the wheel. His eyes were focussed, and it was one of the rare moments that I got to see him as a captain.

A light wind blew at our back, pushing the Jolly Roger forward. The little town of Fairedge was beginning to light up one lantern at a time as the sun began to sink lower and lower behind the horizon.

"Dock's straight ahead, Captain!" Porter shouted from high up in the crow's nest.

"Lift the sails, boys!" Hook boomed again. "Let her drift in, but stay at the ready should the wind shift!" The crew did as they were told without question, echoing his orders so there wasn't one crew member who didn't know what they were supposed to be doing. "Get ready to drop anchor!"

I never realized how complicated sailing a ship could be, but Hook and his crew took it all in stride. They all knew the ship like the back of their hands, and Hook knew her even better. Not only that, but he knew how each and every little thing affected the way his ship sailed, the wind, the waves, the weight of the cargo below. It was like it was an extension of himself.

As the Jolly Roger finally came to a stop at the long dock, everyone visibly relaxed, even me.

"Good job, lads," Hook praised, and I saw each one swell with a bit of pride at their captain's approval. It brought a smile to my lips to see the adoration they had for their leader, and Hook's appreciation for his crew. He couldn't sail without them.

"What next, Captain?" Porter asked, now half-way down the rope like net that he used to climb to the crow's nest.

Hook paused, seeming to think a moment before he smiled and waved a dismissive hand. "Get out of here, you slackers!" he crowed, and the men cheered. "It's time to drink and relax!" As the men let down the ramp and filed off the ship, Hook turned to me with warm eyes and offered me his elbow. "Mind walking with me and keeping me company, love?"

My chest filled with warmth and I nodded. I took his elbow and he led me down the ramp and towards our temporary getaway.

###

The stories of Fairedge were far too kind.

The buildings threatened collapse like dominos at any given moment. The wood had obviously rotted years ago, and while some spots had been hastily patched up, most had just been left to deteriorate further. The thought of anyone living in the buildings made me wonder if they were brave or foolish.

The streets seemed to be caked with a mixture of mud, sand, and horse waste, and while I hoped I would get used to the smell, it seemed the smell was there to stay. Every once in a while, when we passed a particularly dark alley, my nose would crinkle with the rancid smell of urine and vomit, and I would have to cover my nose with my sleeve in order to avoid gagging.

 _It's just like the dungeons back home,_ I thought, and I felt goosebumps rise on my skin.

Not only did the smell remind me of the dungeons; so did the people, and while Nora was right to send me clothes, it would have been better if we had all rolled in mud and ripped at our clothes before stepping off the ship.

We stuck out like flowers in a garden full of weeds. Each person that we passed seemed to be covered in either dirt or ash or both, and their clothes were no better, mismatched and sometimes hanging in rags off of their bodies. Everyone's hair was either brown or grey, depending on how much filth was caked in it, and it seemed no one really knew what a comb was.

I pressed closer to Hook when a group of men stopped to stare at us, at _me,_ and sneered, their eyes full of hunger as they undressed me with their gaze.

"Don't worry, love," Hook whispered in my ear, "everyone here is harmless. They would never hurt a new-comer."

"How can you be sure?" I asked with a shiver as one of the men made a kissing gesture at me.

Hook shot the man a glare, and I watched as his face fell and he retreated like a dog with its tail between its legs. His friends followed his lead and they all ducked their heads, grumbling and spitting a dark substance at their feet as Hook and I continued on our way. "Visitors don't come very often," Hook explained as we followed the crew into what I could only assume to be a pub. "But when they do, it usually means some extra money for the town and even a little extra for those who talk the poor visitors into a rigged game of cards.

"We're helping them feed their families and helping them pay some debts. Without travelers like us, Fairedge would be wasteland."

 _Isn't it already?_ I wanted to ask, but I nodded instead.

Part of me hoped that the pub would be a little less intimidating than the street, but again, I was sorely disappointed.

A heavy silence descended on the pub as we made our way inside, and there wasn't a set of eyes that wasn't turned our way.

"Oi, don't stop all the fun on account of us," Porter jabbed, pulling a chair out at an empty table. Most of the crew followed his lead, and while the patrons seemed to go back to their business, I still felt as though there were eyes lingering on me.

"Stay close to the lads for a bit, love," Hook whispered in my ear. "I've got to talk to the bartender."

I nodded, but I felt frozen in place as Hook untangled his arm from mine and began to weave his way through the pub. The noise was beginning to return as men began to chat and bar wenches began to flirt to get the biggest tip they could, and soon, it felt like the world was spinning at an off angle.

I jumped when I felt someone take my hand.

"Relax, Lass," Porter rasped in his sand-paper voice. "S'just me."

My heart hammered in my ears as I nodded, and I let Porter lead me back to the table. He pulled out my chair, and I sank into it, happy to no longer be the center of attention.

Within minutes, a young woman with far too much powder on her nose and bright red lipstick set down a tray full of drinks in front of us.

"Seems your first round of drinks is on the house tonight." She sounded disappointed, and she didn't try to hide her pout as the crew cleared out her tray without hesitation.

"Thank ya, little lady," Gresham said as he landed a slap on the girl's rear. I winced, waiting for the slap that I was sure was going to land on his cheek, but the girl didn't seem to mind. In fact, she smiled and ran her sharp nails through Gresham's thinning hair.

"My pleasure," she purred, leaning down to give him a painted kiss on the cheek and to show off her low cut dress. The crew cheered and toasted to Gresham and his new lady friend, and I shuddered as I watched Gresham slip a silver coin into the pocket of her apron. I could only imagine what it was for.

A few of the other crew members became the center of attention of a few of the other bar wenches, but most were just content to drink. I stared at the cup of ale in front of me, and while I was thirsty, I pushed it away. Instead, I looked around the pub again, this time in search for Hook.

I spotted him just in time to see the man behind the bar wave him through a door that led outside. Hook followed without any hesitation, and I watched them both disappear into the dark.

"Don't worry about him, Lass," Porter said. "He'll be back before you know it."

And so I waited.

And waited.

But Hook didn't come back, and things slowly began to drift in an alarming direction.

After only a few drinks, most of Hook's men seemed to be sloppy drunk, and a few were even so far gone that they had passed out in their seats, drool falling out of the corners of their mouths as snores ripped from their chests. And the few smart ones that didn't keep throwing drinks back were missing from the table, dragged upstairs by bar wenches that were keen on milking the men of every silver and copper coin they had.

My eyes fell on the pint still sitting in front of me completely untouched. I lifted it to my nose and sniffed, but all I could smell was barley and yeast. When I took a sip, there was a sour aftertaste, but nothing that seemed out of the ordinary, especially if the ale was old and had began to go bad in the barrel. Even so, I pushed the mug away. What else could be causing Hook's men to pass out one by one after only a few drinks? I knew these men, and a few pints of ale wasn't enough to get them like this.

I kept my head down, trying not to draw too much attention to myself or the growing panic in my gut, but the feeling of eyes on me became too much, and I raised my eyes slowly.

And felt my stomach sink.

There _were_ eyes on me; a lot of them, but that wasn't the worst part. A handful of men around the pub slowly rose from their seats and began making their way towards me. Their eyes never left mine as I quickly glanced around the table only to find most of Hook's crew snoring away. The ones who weren't were so cross-eyed drunk that they didn't seem to realize that something was very, _very_ wrong.

The men's pace was slow, but I knew that if I didn't move soon that I would be trapped, and I couldn't bear to think what they would do to me once they got a hold of me.

 _Stop it!_ I screamed at myself. _Stop thinking and_ move! _Find Thomas!_

Without another moment to lose, I pushed myself to my feet and bolted for the door that I had watched Hook leave through with the bartender. Some men tried to make a grab for me as I darted by but, by some miracle, I was able to twist away from their grimy hands. I tried to keep closer to the tables that were empty or nearly empty, knocking over chairs in my wake in order to make it harder for the men chasing me, but as I scrambled up and over the bar, I realized that they were still moving at their leisurely pace.

"W-What do you want?" I asked as they drew closer to the bar. I could feel my heartbeat in my head and at the tips of my fingers and my toes.

One man sneered, revealing yellow teeth. He was built like Langley, and I knew that if he got a hold of me, there would be no fighting him. "We don't get pretty ones like you here very often," he said. His eyes raked down my body and his tongue darted out to lick over his lips. "It'd be a shame to pass you up."

Bile rose in my throat as the others nodded in agreement. My lungs burned as my breaths came in panicked gasps. It felt like I was drowning.

"It's not often we get a beauty whose body hasn't been ruined by a child or two," jeered another, and I felt tears spring to my eyes. My fingernails stabbed into my palms, leaving little half-moons in their wake.

"L-Leave me alone!" I tried to sound threatening, but it came out as more of a plea.

The first man shook his head. "I don't think so."

And then he lunged for me across the bar, his large hand snaking around my wrist before I could jump back. A scream ripped from my throat as I struggled, but his grip was firm.

 _No, no, no!_ The words echoed in my mind as the man snatched me forward, my stomach colliding painfully with the edge of the bar as he tried to pull me up and over the counter. Hook had said that the men of Fairedge were harmless, but these men were _animals._

I pressed my eyes shut so tight that I saw bursts of color. The man had grabbed my other wrist and was pulling me up and over the counter. The other men cheered him on, encouraging him.

When another arm wrapped around my waist, I screamed again and couldn't help but kick back as hard as I could. There was a grunt of pain as I connected with something, so I did it again.

But before I could, there was a sickening _crunch,_ and the man who had been holding my wrists suddenly dropped them. When I opened my eyes, he was cupping his nose and blood was pouring through his fingers. For a moment, the other men stood wide-eyed with shock as the large man stumbled back into a chair I had tipped over in my haste to get away and tumbled over backwards. There was another loud thump as his head bounced off the floor, and then he was still. When the rage resumed, stronger this time, and they all made a lunge for me and the person who was still holding me around the waist, I was certain there was nothing they wanted more than to draw blood.

I couldn't move. I was petrified, glued to the spot as I watched the men descend on me and my savior like a wild dog on weakened prey.

"Come on, Holly," my savior said as he grabbed my hand and began to drag me towards the door, "we need to move."

Thankfully, my feet seemed to recover faster than my brain and soon we were both slipping out the door and into the night.

We ran for a while, but it seemed that the men from the pub had no interest chasing us. Either that, or they were coming up with a plan to get us back. I worried for Hook's men back in the pub, but the men didn't seem to be interested in them; just me. The thought made me shiver.

The boy who came to my rescue still jogged in front of me, his hand becoming warm in mine as we both began to sweat. I couldn't get a good look at his face, but he had thick, dark hair that hung down around his ears and broad shoulders. He didn't tower over me, but he still had an air about him that told me he could hold his own in a fight.

His clothes weren't anything like the clothes that the people of Fairedge wore. they were cleaner and appeared to be a forest green in the fleeting bits of moonlight that we darted through as we made our escape. He wore a belt over his large shirt, and it was then that I noticed the multiple knives that hung there, glinting dangerously.

"Just a little farther," he assured me over his shoulder and I nodded, my eyes darting back over his many weapons.

"Where are we going?" The question had slipped up into my mouth and past my lips before I could stop myself, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that something wasn't quite right with this boy either. I wasn't quite sure why. When he didn't answer, I asked again.

"I'm taking you somewhere safe, Holly," he answered, sounding exasperated. "Just trust me."

"I don't even know you," I chided in my defense, and that's when the nagging feeling in my mind sharpened as I realized _why_ something wasn't right.

I had never told him my name. I had never told him my name, yet he knew it.

Digging my heals in, I was able to give myself enough leverage to yank my hand out of his. I didn't turn to run even though my mind screamed that I should. He _had_ saved me after all, even though I wasn't sure why. He spun around to look at me, his eyes just as dark as his hair. His thick brows were drawn together in confusion as he reached out to try and take my hand again, but I snatched it away.

"Holly, what's wrong?"

"How do you know my name?" I demanded, ignoring his question.

Another beat of confusion. Then, as he began to realize his mistake, his face fell, and part of him seemed uneasy, as if he had made a terrible mistake.

"How. Do you know. My name?" I prodded, trying to keep my voice calm, and although my eyes never left his face, I couldn't help but wonder if he would reach for his belt and pull a knife on me. Then he'd be even more dangerous.

The sound of rocks crunching under foot alerted me to a presence at my back. "Don't be so hard on him, Sweetheart. I told him."

 _Oh dear gods, no. This has to be a trick, a bad dream. He_ can't _be here._

But as I turned on shaking legs, I felt like the wind was knocked out of me.

There he was. Peter Pan. In all his dark, cruel, impish glory, and he had the biggest grin on his face.

He stepped towards me, quickly closing whatever safe space there was between us, and gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His green eyes twinkled menacingly as he asked, "Did you miss me?"


	32. Chapter 32

"Where's Thomas?" The words threatened to choke me as I spoke them, but there was no doubt in my mind that Peter had something to do with this, and I wanted to know just what it was.

A corner of Peter's mouth twitched, faltering his smirk as he stared down at me.

Peter sneered. "Don't worry about him, Sweetheart. He isn't going to bother you anymore." I clenched my fists as his hands came up to cup my face and he leaned in close. "I've missed you so much."

His lips brushed against mine in a chaste kiss.

My cheeks flushed, a mixture of anger and fear bubbling in my gut as I shoved him away. He swore as he stumbled back a few feet, but I didn't wait to see if he regained his balance.

Instead, I turned on my heel and ran.

Or, tried to.

The boy with the belt of knives caught me as I tried to twist by him, his grip bruising as I kicked and struggled. He planted his feet and held me still as Peter stalked towards me, his green eyes piercing.

Peter's hand struck out and landed in my hair, his nails scraping against my scalp as he knotted his fingers in it. I yelped, but stopped struggling. Struggling would only make it worse.

"Why can't you just behave?" Peter seethed, pulling sharply so I had to look up at him. I whimpered, bringing both my hands up to cover his in a weak attempt to keep him from pulling. When I didn't answer, he pulled again, and I cried out, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes. "I thought princesses were supposed to have manners," he jabbed, and I heard the knife boy laugh.

 _Don't take the bait,_ I thought as I ground my teeth together painfully. _He wants to get a rise out of you._

When I didn't rise to Peter's game, his eyes hardened and I felt my stomach began to tie itself in knots. His long fingers finally untangled from my hair, but they immediately snaked their way around my wrist, and he gripped it so tight that I knew there would be bruises.

I winced in pain, earning me a smug smile from Peter. "Now, say you're sorry," he demanded.

I debated on whether or not I should, but as I watched the shadow darken Peter's eyes and hair, I knew that it was safer for me if I did.

"I'm sorry, Peter." It felt like admitting defeat. Peter smiled again, pleased with my submission, before he finally turned his attention to the boy with the belt full of knives. With his free hand, Peter reached for a small drawstring bag at his hip that I hadn't noticed before. As he pulled the knot loose, I could hear what sounded like coins rubbing up against one another. He tossed it to the boy without a second thought, as if a bag full of coins meant nothing to him.

"Take this back to the men at the pub," Peter instructed. "They've earned it. Oh—" he held up a finger as if remembering something, "— and give that wench about half of what we agreed on. Not _everyone_ drank their ale."

The boy nodded and ran past us without a glance backwards, the ting of coins resonating from the bag even as he rounded around the corner.

"You paid those men to attack me?" I asked, incredulous. "You paid that… that _wench_ to give us those drinks?" Anger pulsed like lightening through my veins as Peter's eyes lit up.

"I had to get you out of that pub and away from Tommy Boy's crew somehow, and that way seemed the most amusing." I bristled at his words, every muscle in my body coiling like a snake.

"You drugged them."

"Smart, aren't you?" Peter cooed as he came up to brush my cheek with his thumb. I turned my head away, but all I wanted to do was strangle him. Peter snarled at my rejection, his fingers beginning to sink into the soft flesh of my wrist and igniting a dull pain that I remembered from my nightmares all those nights ago. "You're lucky I didn't poison them, Sweetheart," he growled, leaning down so he came nose to nose with me. "Drugging them was generous."

"How kind of you, Peter." The sarcasm dripped from my words, my courage somehow elevated by the injustice of my friends being drugged without their knowledge. It seemed a low blow, even for Pan.

But the courageous fire that had began to grow in me was quickly extinguished as Peter's nails dug farther into my skin, the dull throbbing exploding into a sharp stab that made the edges of my vision blur and my knees go weak.

"I don't have time to correct your tongue," he hissed, digging his nails in deeper. I winced and desperately tried to pull away, but Peter only hardened his grip, making me cry out as tears sprung to my eyes again. The edges of my vision were beginning to go black as the stabbing pain in my arm and shoulder blade became unbearable. "If you would have just drank your ale, you would have fallen asleep like the rest of them and we could have been far away from here by now. I could have just taken you away without any of the trouble."

His grip relinquished, the pain ebbing away almost instantly. I took a shaky breath as I blinked away the spots that had begun to dance in my vision. My legs wobbled, threatening to buckle underneath me, but by some miracle I remained standing.

"Thomas wouldn't have let you," I stated weakly, my eyes darting up to meet Peter's.

For a moment, Peter didn't speak. He just looked at me, his green eyes seeming to see right through me. I averted my gaze, almost certain that he could read my thoughts.

"You know he doesn't love you, right Sweetheart?"

My entire body stiffened at his words, so straightforward and cold. My eyes flew back to his.

The moment our eyes met, I knew that I had given myself away.

A dry laugh fell from his lips, his mouth pulled into a strained smile as he began to slowly shake his head. I tried to shrink away. I couldn't be certain what was going to happen next, but I had a feeling it was going to be painful.

"Sweetheart," he cupped my face again, momentarily relinquishing his grip on my wrist. "He. Doesn't. Love. You." He clipped each word, giving my head a little shake each time as if doing so would make the words stick.

"Yes he does," I argued, stepping out of his grasp.

Peter's eyes flashed dangerously, but he didn't attempt to grab me again. "Oh really?" he hissed as my feet itched to run. "Did he tell you that? Did he tell you he loves you?" I opened my mouth to answer, but Peter pushed on. "Did he actually _say the words?_ "

My breath caught in my chest and my answer died on my lips. I had been the one to say it, and Hook had always smiled and kissed me when I did. But he had never said them back.

Peter smirked. "I didn't think so."

"It doesn't mean he doesn't love me," I stated, the words sounding stronger than I felt. Peter was getting under my skin, making me doubt where I shouldn't be. He was a master manipulator that way.

Peter shrugged, seeming bored. "Maybe. Maybe not. But even if he does, I bet he loves himself more; loves the prospect of living more." I shook my head defiantly, not willing to believe anything that came out of Peter's mouth. "Should we go ask him then?" Peter asked with a smirk.

My breath hitched. Peter had Hook.

 _At least he's_ alive, _Holly,_ I quickly reminded myself.

But for how long?

Peter's eye shown with victory, a cruel smile turning up at the corners of his mouth, but he didn't say anything. He didn't try to stir the courageous fire back into existence. Knowing he had Hook had all but extinguished the embers of my courage. Peter had the upper hand in this game, and now we were being forced to play along.

Peter's fingers wrapped around my wrist again. "Since you're awake, I might as well let you two say goodbye."

So he led me through the streets, but unlike the boy with the belt knives, he didn't seem interested in staying out of sight. He found the main road and dragged me down it, back towards the beach, parading me like a prize that he had won.

 _Maybe he has._

"You're so quiet," Peter chimed, interrupting my thoughts. I didn't answer him. I didn't want to, but it would seem that my silence wouldn't deter Peter. Instead, he pushed on. "Don't you want to ask me anything? Like how we found you?" Silence. "Or how your father is?"

I stumbled at the mention of my father, feeling as though Peter had punched me in the gut. He caught my elbow, steadying me as we came to a stop outside a couple of buildings that seemed abandoned. The street was dark, the only light coming from the moon. But clouds had rolled in, and the moon disappeared behind some of them, casting Peter and I into semi-darkness.

"I must say, I was pretty disappointed when I came back to retrieve you and you weren't there." His tone had shifted, low and dangerous and warning me that he wasn't pleased. When he took a step towards me, I took a step back, my shoulders pressing into the rotting wood of the abandoned building.

"It wasn't my fault," I said in a weak defense, and Peter growled.

"No," he hissed, slamming a fist into the wood beside my head. The wood cracked, and I flinched, pressing my back harder against the wood, wishing that I could just melt into it and get away from Peter. But I was trapped. "No," he repeated again, quieter this time, although the rage was still evident, "your father explained everything. Said you were kidnapped; taken away in the middle of the night by none other than Hook himself."

I nodded as Peter towered over me, his eyes gleaming as the moon reappeared in the sky and bathed him in creamy white light. But even in the fleeting light of the moon, I could see that the shadow still plagued Peter's features, turning him into an even more unpredictable demon than he already was.

"At first, I thought it had been some sort of elaborate plan to keep you from me," Peter explained, peering down at me as he stroked my face with calloused hands.

I shook my head. "N-No, Peter—"

"I thought your father had hired the pirate filth to hide you away from me, to keep my treasure all for himself." I bristled at his belittlement towards Hook but bit my tongue. Then, Peter leaned down so his mouth was against my ear. "I was so _angry,_ Sweetheart," he whispered, and I felt goosebumps rise on my skin. "I almost separated your father's head from his shoulders right then and there."

With Peter standing so close, I felt claustrophobic. The air was suddenly too hot to breathe, and I felt like I was going to be sick.

"But I didn't," he reassured me quietly, and I felt like I was going to crumble. Then, he stepped back, allowing me room to breathe deeply as the sick feeling tried to subside. "And do you know why?"

"Why?" I hurled the words at him, trying my best to pierce him with a glare. Oh, how I _loathed_ this boy. How I wanted nothing more than to separate _his_ head from _his_ shoulders and be rid of him and his nightmarish existence forever.

His grin could have split his face. "Because he's all you have left. If I killed him, there would be nothing to hold over your head," he stated calmly. "And if there was nothing to hold over you head, you would never learn to behave, and I need you to learn how to behave."

I stared at him in shock, disgust coursing through me at his admission. I clenched my fists at my sides.

"Why?" The words came out so quiet I wasn't sure he would hear me. But he did.

"Because," Peter boasted as he stretched his arms out wide, "I'm Peter Pan, and I always get what I want."

###

Peter was wrong. My father wasn't only thing I had left.

I had Tink.

I had Nora.

I had Starryview.

And I had Hook.

But Tink and Nora were back in Starryview, three days by ship and an ocean away, and if Peter succeeded in his endeavors tonight, I would never see any of them again. Which left Hook, the man that I love and my only hope.

I wasn't surprised when Peter began leading me down the long dock that would lead us to the Jolly Roger. It was far away from the town and far away from Hook's crew. Not that they would be of any help to us now.

Voices drifted down to us as we drew close to the ship; boy voices. Boyish laughter. A few stood at attention around the deck and at each end of the ship, watching for anything or anyone that could cause any ripples in their scheme. They straightened when they spotted Peter and I, turning to bark at their comrades before the ship fell silent.

Our footsteps echoed on the wood of the ramp, the only other sound to the churning water below. Peter walked behind me, blocking any feeble escape that I may attempt.

"I hope you know," Peter whispered in my ear as he sauntered up close to me, "I will never break your heart, Holly." I shivered at his use of my name, and almost yelped in surprise when he grabbed my upper arm and pulled me gently to a stop. The gesture was equally confusing as it was terrifying.

Peter wasn't gentle. He wasn't capable of being kind.

When Peter turned me towards him, I came eye to eye with bright green eyes that reminded me of the summer months back home. I briefly wondered if they were the same eyes that Tink used to love so much before he turned into everyone's worst nightmare. "And after tonight," he lowered his voice as he took my hand in his, entwining our fingers, "I will be the one to pick up the broken pieces that he leaves you in."

I didn't ask what he meant. I didn't want to. Instead, I pressed my lips together in a thin line and attempted to pull my hand from his, but Peter's grip only tightened and his eyes shone with a promise that made my stomach sink.

"Go on then," he said with a jut of his chin as he finally released my hand. "Up you go. You'll believe me soon enough."

When I reached the top of the ramp and the deck came into view, I gasped.

Hook slouched against the base of the mast, his wrists bound behind his back. His face was a bloody, bruised mess. His bottom lip was split wide and blood poured down his chin and onto his white shirt. His nose looked broken, slightly crooked, and it too was bleeding. His left eye was swollen shut and quickly turning an ugly purple and blue that made it seem almost black.

When he heard our footsteps, he looked up. His good eye widened and he tried to sit up. "Holly."

I darted forward, determined to get to him and tell him that it was all going to be alright, that I was there and that we were going to make it out of this together, but Peter was faster.

He gripped my upper arm painfully tight and pulled me back with a _tsk._ "I don't think so, Sweetheart."

"Let me go, Peter!" I screamed as I whirled on him and pushed against his chest. "Let me go!" But no matter how hard I pushed, Peter stood firm and unmoving. Anger turned to rage as I began to hit him as hard as I could, my fists flying as tears stained my shirt. Somewhere in the background, I could hear Hook telling me to stop, but I _couldn't_ stop.

Peter had ruined everything once. And he was determined to do it again.

I couldn't let him.

"Holly, _stop!"_ Hook hissed, but Peter had finally had enough. He caught my flying fist and bent my wrist back so far I was sure it was going to snap. While I was distracted by the blinding pain, he twisted my arm and pinned it behind me before pulling my back against him.

"That's _quite_ enough," he hissed in my ear, giving my arm a harsh tug that made me nauseated.

Sobbing, I nodded in defeat. Shame filled me as I realized that I was no match against Peter. I wouldn't be able to get Hook or I out of here by myself. I was useless.

"She's quite fond of you," Peter quipped, and it took me a moment to realize he was speaking to Hook. He still had my arm pinned behind my back so I couldn't see his face, but I could hear his smile.

My eyes landed on Hook, but he wouldn't look at me. His eyes were on Peter, murder shining in his ocean blue eyes, but he stayed silent.

The Lost Boys who surrounded us sniggered at Peter's jab, and I bristled.

"Easy, Sweetheart," Peter cooed in my ear, his lips brushing against me with every word. "We're just talking is all. Nothing to get worked up about. Right, Tommy Boy?" he asked without turning to look at Hook. Instead, Peter leaned in and pressed a kiss just below my ear.

Embarrassment colored my cheeks as Peter nuzzled into my neck, breathing in deeply as if I was intoxicating. Hook tensed, his features darkening as he watched Peter do what he pleased, but when Peter lifted his head again, Hook quickly reined in his emotions. He relaxed against the mast and put on a mask of indifference. And even though I knew it was Hook's way of trying to protect me, to protect _us,_ it still stung in the deepest part of my chest.

"What do you want, Pan?" Hook asked, his voice unnaturally calm.

Peter barked a harsh laugh, and I felt myself flinch.

"I want _nothing_ from _you,_ Pirate," Peter replied, and I wondered if Hook could hear his temper beginning to slip. "I simply came to take back what you stole from me."

"You mean Holly," Hook stated in the same calm voice.

Peter's grip tightened on my arm, and I sucked in a breath, waiting for the pain that I was sure was coming. But it didn't. Instead, his grip relaxed and he straightened to his full height, towering over me as he stared down at Hook.

"I thought you would have learned the last time to keep your filthy hands off of my things."

Hook smirked. "I guess not." I could hear Peter ground his teeth together, the only inclination that Hook was getting under his skin, but he didn't rise to Hook's bait. When Hook realized this, he peeled his eyes away, seeming bored as he took in the Lost Boys on his ship. "I figured you'd bring more brats along then this," he stated as he snarled at a younger boy who couldn't have been older than ten.

At Hook's remark, one of the Lost Boys stepped forward with a snarl. He kicked and connected with Hook's ribs with a sickening _crack!_ Hook bit back a howl of pain and moaned.

"No need," Peter stated. "I only needed as many as this to get your crew out of the way and to lure you outside. Everyone else is back at camp, including Johnny Boy." The last bit was directed at me, and while the news of John made my stomach drop, I couldn't help but be relieved that he was alive. I closed my eyes and sent a prayer of thanks to anything that was listening.

Peter waved over two older boys and made a half-hearted gesture towards Hook. The boys nodded before they hooked their arms under Hook's shoulders and yanked him to his feet. Hook grimaced and stumbled sideways, but the Lost Boys only jerked him back into place.

"Peter, please," I begged, feeling my throat close. I craned my head to look at Peter, and felt my heart stumble. Dark eyes stared down at me, the shadow swirling in his iris's like smoke. "Don't hurt him," I whispered. Unlike Hook, I couldn't rein in my emotions. I couldn't put on a mask of indifference. " _Please,_ Peter," I begged when he didn't answer me.

When he let go of my arm completely, I sighed in relief, cradling my elbow as my shoulder throbbed. Nothing was broken, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell. Then, his strong fingers were under my chin and forcing me to look up at him.

He glimpsed over my face before giving me a half-smile. "Whether or not Tommy boy gets hurt tonight totally depends on him, Sweetheart."

I furrowed my brows at his cryptic response, which only made Peter's smile grow. But Peter didn't seem interested in elaborating on his answer. Instead, he took my hand in his and began to lead me towards the spot where the Lost Boys had gathered.

My heart jumped to my throat as I watched the Lost Boys force Hook up onto a long plank of wood that was jutting out of the side of the ship.

"Walk," one boy grunted, poking Hook in the back with his knife. To my horror, Hook did as he was told, walking out to the end of the plank before looking down at the dark ocean water.

Hook's laughter filled the silence as we all waited, but what we were waiting for, I wasn't sure. "I expected better of you, Pan," Hook said as he turned to face us. "I can certainly swim just fine with my hands tied."

I watched as the younger boys in the group turned to Peter with confusion in their eyes. Walking the plank didn't seem all that bad, especially since Hook could swim.

I wondered how long they had been with Peter. It was almost impossible to tell except for the uncertainty in their gazes. They weren't sure what they were doing was right, and it showed in the way they lingered towards the back of the group, how they shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, their weapons hanging half-heartedly in their hands.

When Peter began to chuckle, Hook's laughter died away, and I felt goosebumps rise on my skin.

"You've been away too long, Tommy Boy," Peter said with a shake of his head. "You forget that I _know_ you; know your deepest fears. Do you think after stealing _this_ treasure—" he looked at me with twisted adoration, "— that I would just let you get away with it?"

That's when it started. A distant noise that was out of place amongst the ocean water and the moaning wood of the ship. It was measured and rhythmic, never faltering and never changing. As it drew closer, the sound got louder, and the fear in me grew.

 _Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock._

All the color drained from Hook's face as he froze. His knuckles were white as he tried to back up, but his escape route was still blocked by Lost Boys.

"Not so brave now are you, Tommy Boy?" Peter crowed. He swelled at the Lost Boys' laughter.

The ticking sound was at it's loudest, each tick keeping pace with my heart as my palms became covered in sweat. The crocodile was close. For all I knew, it could be right below us, but my feet were heavy and I couldn't bring myself to pull away from Peter, walk the few feet to the ship's railing, and look over.

"He's been waiting a long time to taste the rest of you," Peter piped up as he made his way over to the ship's edge without me. The Lost Boys parted for their leader without hesitation, their eyes shining with growing excitement. "Your hand must have tasted pretty good for him to come so far."

"And who's the one who gave him my hand?" Hook snapped, whirling on Peter with blazing eyes.

While Hook was becoming more and more unraveled, Peter was the picture of calm. He leaned against the side of the ship, his entire body relaxed as he gave a lazy smile.

"Like I said, you should have kept your hands off my things."

"Tiger Lily." Peter tensed at Hook's words. Hook's chest heaved and his nostrils flared as he stared down the long board towards Peter. "Her _name_ was Tiger Lily."

"And she belonged to me!" Peter roared, the muscles in his shoulders and back rippling as he moved.

A hollow laugh escaped Hook, quickly turning crazed. "She didn't want _you,_ Pan, _"_ Hook snarled. Peter ground his teeth together. "She didn't love _you._ She wanted _me!_ She _loved me!"_

"And was it worth it?" Peter quipped. "When I threw her to the crocodile, did your _love—"_ he spat the word, "— do anything to save her? No." Red anger climbed up Hook's throat and spread across his cheeks, but when he opened his mouth to argue, to tear into Peter, Peter only held up a hand to silence him. "Enough," Peter's voice dropped as he ran a hand through his hair. He took a deep breath and the muscles in his shoulders relaxed. "I'm not here to talk about Tiger Lily." He shot me a glance over his shoulder and smiled. "I'm here to talk about our sweet Holly here."

Hook tore his eyes away from Peter, his eyes finally finding mine. But I didn't recognize the man staring back at me. His eyes were wild, fear threatening to swallow him. Sweat beaded his forehead and the muscles in his neck were pulled tight.

"I'm going to give you a choice, Hook. Just like last time. But I hope that, this time, you make the right choice."

"Humor me," Hook clipped with a snarl, but the bite in his words was gone. His eyes flicked down to the ocean below on either side of him and he shuffled on his feet, unable to keep still as the ticking set him on edge.

Peter planted his hands on his hips and stood tall. His voice rang out over the deck of the ship so everyone could hear him. "You can either let me take Holly back with me—"

My heart jumped to my throat. "No!" I croaked and shook my head. Peter shot me a silencing look over his shoulder before he continued.

"You can either let me take Holly back with me, _or…_ I let the crocodile tear you to shreds."

I opened my mouth to protest again, but Hook shot me a look that pleaded that I stay silent. He was slowly beginning to crumble; it was obvious in the slump of his shoulders and the growing hopelessness in his good eye.

 _Don't let him take me, Thomas._ I recited the words in my head like a prayer. _Please don't let him take me._

"I'm being generous, Thomas," Peter stated patiently. "If you let me take Holly right now, my Lost Boys and I will leave and you'll never have any trouble with us again. We'll leave you and your men alone to sail these waters for the rest of your days.

"But if you _don't_ let me take her," Peter stepped forward so he was standing directly in front of Hook, his voice so low it was almost a growl, "I'll make sure that you find your way into the water below, and all those years that you stole for yourself in an attempt to live forever will have been for nothing. You will die, and you will fade from memory, and the world will be better off without you playing pirate ship with that mangy crew of yours.

"Besides," he sneered, "what's the point of everlasting love a second go-around if there's only one of you left to feel it?"

The ticking sound was almost deafening as everyone held their breath waiting for Hook's answer.

But as the seconds stretched, I felt horror try to claw its way out of me.

 _He's actually_ thinking _about it._

A cold numbness started in my gut and slowly began to reach outward.

"Thomas." His name was a raspy whisper. A plea. An accusation. But he didn't look at me. His eyes were on his feet. His shoulders rose and fell with steady breaths as I struggled to keep calm. My fingers shook as I wrapped my arms around my middle, a sob threatening to rip through me.

Suddenly, Tink's words that night in the clearing rang loud and clear in my mind. _"Quit being a coward, Thomas, and just accept that everyone dies sometime!_ Including you! _"_

But he wasn't ready to die. Not tonight. If he was ready, he would have made his choice. He would have chosen me.

"Well?" Peter prodded, his patience beginning to slip. "What say you, Thomas?"

 _Fight!_ I wanted to scream at him. _Fight for me. Fight for us! Just don't let him—_

"Take her," he croaked, and I froze.

"What was that?" Peter asked, a smile slowly appearing on his lips. "Say it a little louder."

Hook's head snapped up, his face chiseled with harsh lines of anger as he bared his teeth at Peter. His eyes never found mine, and it felt like a slap to the face. "I said _take her._ "

And in that moment between Hook's words and Peter's triumphant chuckle, I felt my heart shatter. Shards of it coursed through my veins and began cutting me open, letting all my anger, betrayal, and fear mix together to create a heavy numbness that settled in my bones. A blanket of cold settled over me in the early summer air, and I knew that I would never be warm again.

Peter's words echoed in my head like a curse.

 _He doesn't love you._

 _He doesn't love you._

 _I will be the one to pick up the broken pieces that he leaves you in._

And it would seem that Peter was right.

I was Peter's now, whether I liked it or not.

Because I am his treasure.

And Peter Pan always gets what he wants.


End file.
